


You're Not A Horse, Harry!

by Maeglin_Yedi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Awkward Crush, Awkward Romance, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Crossover, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Harry as Thor and Loki's son, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Minor Loki/Thor (Marvel), Multi, Protective Avengers, Protective Loki (Marvel), Pseudo-Incest, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, bucky just has a crush for now, harry's clueless, romance won't start until Harry's an adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 21,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Yedi/pseuds/Maeglin_Yedi
Summary: “So you’re my dad,” Harry said to the large, blond one. The one with the hammer. Supposedly a god, even.“Yes, I have conceived you myself!” His ‘father’ said with a huge, beaming smile.“With your brother,” Harry said very slowly, very carefully. “Who is apparently my mother.” Harry gave the tall dark-haired one a good, long look. Yes, there were similarities between their features, even Harry could see that. Hair, eye-colour, the shape of their nose and mouth.In which Harry is the product of a prank that Loki once played on Thor. But hey, at least he's not a horse, so there's that.A series of vignettes about Harry's life with the Avengers while getting to know his new parents.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Harry Potter, Loki/Thor (Marvel), Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 391
Kudos: 2264





	1. Number 1

**Author's Note:**

> The romance won't start until Harry's much older. It's just as I was writing this, Bucky made it clear he was crushing on Harry a little, though neither of them really have a clue at this point. 
> 
> I just adore Harry Potter/MCU cross-overs, so I had to write my own. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you'll enjoy.

Number 1

The one with the bow was grinning in a way that meant he hadn’t seen something as entertaining as this in a long time. The pretty, red-haired one looked like she wanted to grin in a similar way but had more control to keep her features schooled in something approximating mild curiosity. 

“So you’re my dad,” Harry said to the large, blond one. The one with the hammer. Supposedly a god, even. 

“Yes, I have conceived you myself!” His ‘father’ said with a huge, beaming smile. 

“With your brother,” Harry said very slowly, very carefully. “Who is apparently my mother.” Harry gave the tall dark-haired one a good, long look. Yes, there were similarities between their features, even Harry could see that. Hair, eye-colour, the shape of their nose and mouth. 

The big, beefy one with the shield lowered his head into his hands and released a deep sigh that conveyed a generous amount of wariness and disbelief. Beside him on the couch the brown-haired one with the glasses calmly sipped a steaming mug of tea. Harry could do with some tea right about now. 

How was he ever going to explain this to Ron and Hermione, to Sirius and Dumbledore? If it even was true, since Harry still had his doubts. As far as he was concerned, James and Lily were his parents, end of story. 

“Ah, yes,” his ‘father’ said after a few awkward moments of complete silence. “Loki played a prank, disguising himself as a woman, and afterwards, after you were born, our father was not amused and had you taken away. We did not know where you were taken, but we have looked for you.”

Harry released a snort. “So Loki put on a dress and somehow he got pregnant? Is that what happened?”

The cocky one with the goatee, the one who had all but kidnapped Harry from the Dursleys just as he had returned home from a disastrous fourth year at Hogwarts, stepped up to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. “Chin up, kid. The last time Loki popped out a sprog he was a horse. Imagine, you could have ended up with eight legs and spent the rest of your life carrying your asshole grandfather into battle instead of what you got now.”

Yeah, Harry had nothing coherent to say to that.


	2. Number 2

Number 2

Harry asked for a phone while he retreated to one of the hotel room’s private bedrooms. Tony Stark threw a thin, black thing at him and when Harry caught it and stared at it in confusion, Steve Rogers scolded Stark and took the time to show Harry how to work the mobile phone, since that was apparently what it was. 

Grateful that he’d taken the time to memorize Hermione’s phone number years ago, Harry called her, needing someone familiar to talk to about everything that had happened. 

His whole life had been turned upside down in the span of just a few hours and Harry didn’t think there was room in his head to make sense of it all. 

Hermione answered herself and Harry was glad he didn’t have to talk to one of her parents because he wasn’t sure his voice wouldn’t crack the second he used it. 

“Hermione,” Harry breathed, and yep, his voice was doing strange things as he attempted to get a few more words out. 

“Harry?” Hermione asked, obviously shocked Harry would call her since she knew the Dursleys would never let him use their phone. “What’s wrong?”

Harry swallowed, and then he swallowed again. “So my parents apparently aren’t my parents, and now I have new ones, alive ones, and they’re taking me to America for the summer at least.”

“What?” Hermione asked and then fell utterly silent as she processed what Harry had just said. “Okay, one thing at a time. What new parents?”

“Yeah, so my new parents had me as a prank but then my maybe evil grandfather took me away and my parents couldn’t find me until now.” Harry was deeply, sincerely proud of himself that he’d managed to get all of that out in one go without breaking down in some way. 

“Where are you?” Hermione demanded. 

“Er…some hotel in London. We’ll be leaving in a few hours.”

“What’s the name of the hotel? Look around, it’s probably printed on something.”

Harry walked around the room and saw custom water bottles on the dresser opposite the huge bed. “It says The Rosewood London. It’s a very big suite with multiple bedrooms.”

“Okay, thank you. Harry, stay put, I’m getting in touch with whoever I can get in touch with.”

Harry inhaled a deep breath. He was just so confused. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I really don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Just as Harry ended the call, he heard something behind him.

“So we’re expecting visitors,” the red-haired one said as she leaned casually against the doorpost, of the door Harry knew for certain he’d closed behind himself. The door was still closed. How the heck had she entered and he hadn’t heard it. 

“My friend’s coming over,” Harry said with a tight shrug, unsure if Hermione herself was coming or someone like Dumbledore or Sirius. Harry doubted it, though. How was Hermione getting in touch with anyone in the wizarding world while she was staying with her muggle parents? She didn’t have an owl, and even if she did, delivering a letter could take hours and by that time Harry would be well on his way to the other side of the world. 

“I’ll let the others know company’s on the way.” And with that she disappeared quietly and Harry sat down on the edge of the biggest bed he’d ever seen and waited while staring down at his shoes, mind going a mile a minute. 

It was perhaps an hour later when furious knocking sounded on the door of the enormous suite. Harry finally got up and left the bedroom to join the others. Before long he found himself with an armful of Hermione, bushy hair tickling his face. 

“You’re all right!” Hermione said loudly, immediately followed by furious whispering in his ear, “These are muggles, Harry. Remember the Statute of Secrecy! And I couldn’t contact anyone else, so I begged my parents to take me.”

“Dr and Dr Granger,” Hermione’s mother introduced herself and her husband as she shook hands with Steve and Bruce. “Hermione’s best friends with Harry, she insisted on coming to say goodbye.”

“Sure, the more the merrier,” the one with the goatee said. 

“Goodness, you’re Tony Stark,” Hermione’s mum breathed, eyes wide. 

“I get that a lot,” Tony Stark said with a charming grin while he leaned his hip against the edge of the couch. “And these here are Harry’s new parents, which is why we’re all here.” Tony gestured at Harry’s new ‘mother’ and ‘father’.

Harry’s ‘mother’ looked around the room with glowing green eyes and seemed intent to murder everyone, except for Harry, in their sleep. Harry’s ‘father’ released a burst of booming laughter. “Be welcome, friends of our son!”

“Harry,” Hermione breathed after she released Harry and looked around the room with wide eyes. “These are the Avengers.”

“They’re the what?” Harry asked, which earned him an incredulous look from Hermione, not to mention from Tony Stark himself. “I don’t keep up with the news,” Harry said lamely, in his own very weak defence since he couldn’t very well tell these mostly muggles that he was stuck in a magical boarding school for most of the year and they received no muggle news there.

“So you missed the aliens invasion as well?” the one with the bow asked.

Harry snorted, thinking they were having him on, until he saw the look on Hermione’s face. “What alien invasion?”

“Wow,” Tony Stark said while he looked Harry up and down. “It seems your kid is even more ignorant about everything than you are, Thor, and that’s saying something.”


	3. Number 3

Number 3

During their trip to America in one of the airplanes that wasn’t an airplane (Quinjet! Tony Stark had said at least a dozen times) Harry sat on a hard bench and stared straight ahead, still unable to fully comprehend what exactly was happening. 

There was a small noise beside him as his ‘mother’ sat down, leather pants and jacket creaking. Loki remained quiet for a few moments until he cleared his throat. “We looked,” Loki whispered, gaze on the pale hands in his lap. “I need you to understand that because I can well imagine your anger at the idea we abandoned you while in truth, we did no such thing.”

Harry licked his lips and glanced to the side. He had felt random bouts of anger at the idea of having parents, real parents, out there while he’d been stuck with the Dursleys. “All right,” Harry said, sounding rather unconvinced even to his own ears. 

Loki turned to him at once. “You do not believe me.”

Sighing, Harry leaned back against the metal wall behind him. “No, I do believe you’ve looked and stuff. I just don’t get how you didn’t find me. You’re supposed to be really powerful.”

Loki sniffed in reply, lips slowly morphing into a grin. “I am really powerful, but unfortunately, so is Odin. And we had not expected him to essentially turn you into a human, albeit temporarily. We were looking for an Aesir child in all the nine realms, not a human child on Midgard.”

“Ah.” Harry looked down, plucking at his t-shirt with nervous fingers. “So am I human or not?”

“In essence, not. But you appear human in many ways until the spell Odin put on you breaks.” 

“And when does it break? Because right now I’m a limp noodle compared to you two,” Harry said, trying not to sound too bitter, but it was hard. One look at his ‘father’ and his physique, or his ‘mother’ and the magic that just about poured off him, and Harry got the distinct impression that he’d received the very shortest end of the genetic stick. 

Loki chuckled, apparently guessing where Harry’s thoughts were going, or perhaps the bloke could straight up read minds, who even knew? “It should break once you are declared an adult in this realm.”

“So, seventeen,” Harry said with a nod. “And then I’ll get superpowers or something.”

“Or something,” Loki agreed, and a few moments of silence stretched between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable, not anymore. 

Loki craned his neck and pointed towards one of the side windows that showed the ocean beneath them as they started lowering altitude. “That is where your brother lives.”

Harry turned to stare at Loki in astonishment. “A brother? I have a brother?”

“You have four siblings,” Loki said with a warm smile, the kindest he’d yet looked. “Fenrir, Hela, Sleipnir and Jormungandr.”

“I have siblings,” Harry whispered, more to himself than to Loki. This was a revelation. Harry had always known he had parents, albeit dead ones, so the idea of now having living parents all of a sudden wasn’t that much of a stretch. But siblings…that was something entirely foreign yet incredibly exciting. Harry looked up and out the window. “Wait, where did my brother live?”

“Jormungandr lives in the oceans of this planet,” Loki explained patiently. “He is known as the Midgard serpent.”

“He’s a serpent?” Harry asked, shocked, but that only lasted a moment, because honestly, after all the revelations he’d had recently this wasn’t even the weirdest thing that he’d heard. 

His brother, at least one of them, was a big ass snake. Good thing Harry was a parselmouth then.


	4. Number 4

Number 4

Harry shuffled into the dark communal kitchen in the Avengers Tower where he was now staying. He hadn’t been able to sleep, doubts about how to broach the subject of his being a wizard to the people around him keeping him awake. Harry hoped a hot cup of tea and perhaps a sandwich might prove enough distractions for his buzzing mind to finally allow him some rest.

A hand shot out of the shadows, strong fingers curling around his neck. “Who are you?” a hoarse voice whispered against Harry’s ear as he was pushed against the refrigerator without pause.

Harry wanted to answer, he really did, but his airway was being cut off. He also wanted to reach for his wand, until he realized he’d left it in his bedroom since he was wearing pyjamas without pockets and hadn’t bothered to take it with him, to his very real regret.

“Bucky? Where did you go?” 

Right before the lights in the kitchen turned on, the hand released Harry’s throat and Harry found himself gasping for breath. 

Before him stood a tall, muscled, long-haired man with a thousand-yard-stare a dozen times worse than Sirius’ had been when Harry had first met him in the Shrieking Shack in his third year. 

“There you are,” Steve said, looking at the metal-armed man like a happy golden retriever might look upon the meanest, scariest street cat with murder-claws he had been tasked to look after and had accidentally mistaken for a cute, fluffy kitten. “And you’ve met Harry, Thor and Loki’s son!”

Bucky bowed his head with a guilty glance to the side while Harry coughed and coughed to get his throat working properly again. Behind him, Harry heard the refrigerator open and close and a cool can of soda was pressed against his chest by a metal hand. 

Steve beamed as if it was Christmas morning and he’d just received the one gift he’d always wanted but hadn’t received for decades. 

Harry opened the can with trembling fingers and took a big gulp. The cold liquid helped to soothe his throat. “Thanks,” he managed to whisper.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve guessed, and only now did Harry notice that both he and Bucky were dressed in striped pyjama bottoms with white t-shirts. They matched. At Harry’s nod, Steve added, “Us neither. We were looking for some snacks.”

As if on cue, Bucky pressed a box of Oreos into Harry’s arms with a look that was full of silent apologies. Harry accepted them with a quiet, solemn nod, finally understanding that Bucky hadn’t meant to assault him but somehow couldn’t help himself. Harry had quickly learned that most people living in Avengers Tower had weird, disturbing histories. 

“Bucky’s doing a lot better,” Steve explained while pulling the fridge open to rummage through the leftovers. “Hydra had him for seventy years, but he still beat them in the end, right, pal?”

Bucky ducked his head, face hidden by a curtain of brown hair, and Harry felt a huge wave of sympathy for him. He wasn’t sure what Hydra was, but he realized that Bucky had overcome some incredible odds in an obviously very shitty life.

Harry opened the box of Oreos, ripped open a sleeve and pulled out a cookie. He held it up to Bucky, hopeful that Bucky would understand Harry accepted his weird apology. Bucky’s head snapped up and he stared at Harry with wide eyes for a few moments before accepting the cookie as if Harry was offering him a live hand grenade. 

“Bucky,” Steve said with a strangled sound, wiping a hand across his eyes. “You’ve made a friend!”


	5. Number 5

Number 5

Dinner at Avengers Tower was always a loud, raucous affair. Not everyone joined the others at the dining table every day. People went on missions, and dates with friends or lovers, and from time to time everyone needed a quiet dinner in their own rooms to relax. But everyday there were at least some Avengers and support staff to come together for the evening meal and Harry usually sat down with them to eat. 

That evening, Harry was seated between his mother, who took helicopter parenting to a whole other, potentially lethal level, and Bucky, who had apparently decided that Harry was the only other person in the tower besides Steve that he actually liked. 

Harry’s father was seated across from them, regaling a bemused Steve with an animated account of one battle or another.

“How are you settling in, Harry?” Bruce asked from the head of the table. He always got to sit there, claiming that having to bump elbows with others stressed him out too much. 

“All right,” Harry said with a casual shrug. He actually wasn’t quite sure how he was doing these days. So much had happened, so much had changed, that it was difficult to comprehend it all. Mostly, Harry just went with it and let everything happen around him. 

Bruce nodded with a sympathetic smile. “It must be difficult, not just suddenly having parents, but suddenly being royalty as well.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he froze in place. Holy fuck. He had not considered that, not even in the slightest. 

“Yes,” his father said in a voice full of pride. “Haraldr is my firstborn child. I am the heir to the throne of Asgard, and Haraldr is my heir.” 

Harry still couldn’t move and he felt his mother’s hand gently squeeze his thigh under the table.

“Thor,” Loki said while giving Thor an exasperated look full of centuries worth of frustration at Thor’s inability to be subtle. “Perhaps we should discuss this with Haraldr in private before announcing it to the world.” Both his parents had taken to calling Harry by the name Loki had apparently given him right after birth. After a brief period of adjustment, Harry didn’t mind it, even kind of liked it. Everyone else still called him Harry, though, as he preferred it. He was happy to let Haraldr be the name only his parents used for him.

Thor looked at Loki in sheer confusion. 

Leaning forward and offering Thor his most intense stare, Loki said through gritted teeth. “Haraldr might not even wish to rule, brother. He was not raised like you and I.”

Thor waved a dismissive hand around. “Of course he will rule. He is our child, Loki. One day he will make a fine king.”

Harry could barely breathe. Now he wasn’t just the Boy Who Lived and saviour of the wizarding world, no, now he was also suddenly the future king of an alien world somewhere in deep space. How was he ever supposed to deal with that? 

Beside him, Bucky picked up a warm bread roll and silently handed it to Harry.


	6. Number 6

Number 6

“Hmm,” Loki said as he stared at Harry’s forehead. 

Harry sat squashed between his father and mother on the couch during unofficial movie night. There was also an official movie night, apparently, at least according to the schedule Tony had put together but it seemed that only Tony, and maybe Bruce, understood how that schedule even worked so most people paid it little attention. 

“What?” Harry asked as he turned to look up at his mother. Why were both his parents so ridiculously tall and Harry such a short little shrimp? Harry was waiting very impatiently for a growth spurt.

“Your scar,” Loki said, leaning a little closer and raising a hand. “It’s magical but it feels foul.”

“Er..” Harry managed to say before Loki pressed his finger against the scar and Harry saw stars. Very bright, very painful stars. 

“Brother,” Loki said at once, leaning over Harry and smacking Thor in the chest. And yeah, that wasn’t weird at all, how his parents insisted on addressing each other as ‘brother’ all the time. “Feel Haraldr’s scar.”

Thor blinked first at Loki and then at Harry and raised a hand to stroke his fingers across Harry’s scar. Harry pulled back, not wanting a repeat of his sudden view of the universe, but Thor’s touch wasn’t painful at all.

“That is odd,” Thor said while sharing a concerned look with Loki. “It feels as though the scar is alive.”

“Indeed.” Loki looked very much like he wanted to touch the scar again and Harry shrank away from him. “We shall remove it first thing in the morning.”

“You can remove it?” Harry asked, interest piqued. His scar had been bothering him all throughout his fourth year, and now, since Voldemort’s resurrection, it was burning steadily. The added distance from his move to the United States had lessened it somewhat but not eliminated it entirely. 

“Of course,” Loki said with a look that clearly communicated he thought Harry had just asked a very silly question.

And that is how Harry found himself lying on a stone slab deep in the basement of Avengers Tower. Loki had spent half the night inscribing it with runes. The slab felt ice-cold when Harry stretched out on it. 

“Thor, Steven, I need you to hold him down.” Loki waited until both men were in place at either side of Harry while Loki stood near Harry’s head. “Haraldr, I am truly sorry, but this will hurt quite a bit. Be brave, my son. I will be as quick as I can.”

Harry inhaled a deep breath and what followed was minutes of screaming and thrashing as strong hands pushed him down while tendrils of fire seemed to pull Harry’s very essence out through his scar. 

“What the fuck is that?” Tony asked somewhere in the distance. 

“An abomination of magic and life itself,” Loki said, voice echoing in Harry’s ears, close by, yet far away. “It is gone. You did well, Haraldr.”

Harry floated through the air, exhausted, head pounding. 

“I’ve got him, brother,” Thor said, carrying Harry all the way to his room and placing him in bed. “Worry not, Soldier of Winter. Haraldr is strong. He will recover.”

Harry slept and when he woke up hours later, his head was still sore but his mind felt as though it was suddenly a hundred pounds lighter. Loki brought him soup and bread to eat while Thor sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed and proclaimed him a mighty warrior for fighting the abomination while Loki extracted it. Harry let his father believe that. All he remembered was overwhelming pain. Still, he was thankful the scar and whatever freaky Voldemort thing was inside of it was gone. Also, getting to spend the day in bed and being taken care of by his parents was also a nice experience, even though Harry would never admit such a thing to anyone. 

And later, when his bedroom was dark and his parents had gone to bed, Bucky snuck in, looked him over top to bottom, handed him a mug of hot cocoa and left again as quietly as he’d entered.


	7. Number 7

Number 7

Everyone had gathered in the communal living room. All the Avengers, others that frequently worked with them like Sam Wilson and James Rhodes, Ms Pepper Potts, who was a category onto herself, and the guy with the eyepatch, who had the meanest scowl, aside from Snape, that Harry had ever seen. 

“Start talking, kid,” Tony said from his spot on the couch beside Harry’s mother. 

“About what?” Harry asked, confused but also suspecting they’d want to know about the thing in his scar. 

“About the thing in your scar,” Tony said, waving his hand frantically in the general direction of Harry’s head. “We all saw what came out of it and we want to know how it got to be in there in the first place.”

“Haraldr,” Loki said with a patient smile while his eyes were sharp as ever. “Someone performed very foul magic on you. Please tell us what you know.”

Harry sighed. He’d been dreading this moment. Telling everyone he was a wizard. On the one hand, the people around him seemed reasonably accepting of magic. But on the other hand, there was the Statute of Secrecy and Harry really didn’t want to break it, since it had dire consequences. 

But perhaps Harry could exploit a little loophole he thought he’d found. See, you weren’t allowed to tell muggles who were unaware of magic about magic. “Before I can tell you anything,” Harry said carefully, pointedly. “I need you all to tell me that you know magic exists.”

“What?” Sam Wilson asked. 

“I know magic exists,” Bucky said, which earned him a proud smile from Steve, who immediately added, “And I also know magic exists.”

Pepper Potts was next, and then Loki and Thor and James Rhodes and eventually everyone gave a verbal confirmation, even Tony, though he did roll his eyes while doing so.

“Thanks. Also, I’m a wizard,” Harry said and watched people look at him in confusion. “I am a wizard who for most of the year goes to a magical school alongside other wizards and witches.”

“Okay, kid, keep talking,” Tony said, sitting up and leaning forward. 

“Are you saying that there are magic-users living on earth? In some kind of organized fashion?” Natasha asked, head tilted as she looked at Harry as though she’d never seen a more interesting person in her life. 

Harry swallowed. “Yeah. Each country has a hidden community of wizards and witches. We have our own governments, schools, prisons, shopping districts and other stuff.”

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone took in that incredible piece of information.

“Why the hell don’t we know about this?” Mr Eyepatch demanded, arms crossed as he glared around the room. 

“Because your people used to burn my people at the stake,” Harry said in a deadpan sort of voice, causing Tony to snort with laughter.

“Point taken.” Mr Eyepatch looked at Natasha and Clint and appeared to be giving them some silent commands. 

“That still doesn’t tell us how you received that abomination in your scar,” Loki said, narrowing his eyes as though he suspected Harry was purposefully not answering that question. And yeah, Harry kinda was hoping to avoid that subject, since he wasn’t sure how much to tell his parents and the Avengers about Voldemort.

“My parents…James and Lily Potter were murdered by a Dark Lord called Voldemort,” Harry explained to a riveted audience. “Then he tried to kill me with magic, but because my mum…Lily Potter had sacrificed herself for me, his magic backfired.” Harry touched his scar, which was nowadays nothing but a very thin, white line instead of the puffy, inflamed thing it had been. “I got my scar that evening. That’s all I know.”

“And what happened to this Dark Lord?” Steve asked, while beside him on the couch Bucky looked simultaneously worried sick on Harry’s behalf yet murderous towards anyone daring to harm him. 

“He got hit with the curse meant for me which blew up his body. I don’t actually remember any of it, as I was just over a year old. This is all hearsay,” Harry felt compelled to add. 

“Haraldr, if anyone tries to harm you again,” Thor said as he gazed at Harry with a solemn look, placing a large hand on Harry’s knee, “you need only tell us and we will all fight alongside you to defeat your enemies.”

Yeah, and that was exactly what Harry was afraid of.


	8. Number 8

Number 8

It happened during official movie night, while Harry sat between his parents, slowly dozing off during the second of the Lord of the Rings movies. Harry loved the story, but the movies were just so long and he was so comfortable between the two large bodies on either side of him and his eyelids grew heavy without Harry even realizing it. 

A burst of flames appeared out of nowhere behind them all, shooting up from floor to ceiling before revealing three figures standing in the middle of the communal living room. 

A lot of things happened at once. Harry’s parents jumped up, positioning themselves in front of Harry. Bucky vaulted over the coffee table and threw himself between Harry’s parents right on top of Harry. 

Steve snatched up the big, wooden tray that held the snacks, spilling popcorn and chips everywhere while he held the tray like a shield. Tony yelled at Jarvis to deploy his suit and before long the whine of Iron Man’s thrusters filled the room. Natasha pulled a gun out of nowhere, while Clint suddenly held knives in both hands. 

Harry, still buried under a lot of Bucky, managed to make out parts of their unexpected visitors and saw aquamarine robes with silver stars on them. 

Well, there was no mistaking robes like that.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, though it sounded muffled against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Hello, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said pleasantly, as if he didn’t have some of the most lethal individuals on the planet pointing weapons at him. “Ms Granger told me what happened. These people convinced you James and Lily are not your parents?”

Bucky slowly let Harry up enough so he could look over the back of the couch properly, though Bucky hovered closely behind Harry, glaring at the newcomers while the plates on his metal arm shifted up and down. 

“We are Haraldr’s parents,” Thor said with great conviction, and then added, much to Harry’s mortification, “My brother Loki and myself conceived Haraldr together.”

“Preposterous,” Snape snarled, standing on Dumbledore’s left. On the other side stood Mad-Eye Moody, the real one Harry assumed, since the fake one had been kissed by a dementor at the end of the school year. Moody’s magical eye was rolling in its socket as he tried to look at everyone around him at once. 

Snape’s narrowed gaze landed on Harry. “The boy is a complete copy of his father. Just as arrogant and selfish.”

“Pardon?” Thor said in confusion, just as Iron Man took a step forward, helmet retracting to reveal a severely unimpressed looking Tony. 

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint you, Grima, but we tested the kid’s DNA and everything. We didn’t want to bring home the wrong boy and get his hopes up. Harry is Thor and Loki’s offspring, there is no doubt about that.”

“Be that as it may.” Dumbledore looked entirely unconvinced by Tony’s proclamation. Harry wondered if the old headmaster even knew what DNA was. “Harry has family at home, his aunt and uncle, who miss him dearly. And Harry staying here puts them all in danger.”

Loki, who had been oddly quiet, finally spoke up as he took sharp, tight steps towards their visitors. “You dare speak of Haraldr’s safety as though you care?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore said, chin tilted up as he took Loki in top to bottom. “I care deeply for Harry and his safety is of great importance to me.”

“You lie,” Loki all but whispered as he stopped in front of Dumbledore. “If you truly cared you wouldn’t have let Haraldr suffer from the abomination that was trapped in the scar on his head for years. If you truly cared, you would have seen it removed.”

“What have you done?” Dumbledore asked in shock, taking in Harry’s face with wide eyes and apparently only now noticing that Harry’s scar was pretty much gone. 

Loki drew himself up even more, towering above the headmaster. “I have done what any parent would do. I have removed a direct threat to Haraldr’s safety and happiness.” Loki’s mouth curved up in a terrible grin, showing far too many teeth. “In fact, that is exactly what I’ll be doing today as well.” 

And before anyone could stop him, Loki swirled his hands around in a few complicated gestures and from one second to the next Dumbledore, Snape and Moody disappeared with a quiet pop.

“Where did they go?” Harry asked, mouth hanging open. Behind him he heard Bucky chuckle quietly. 

Loki shrugged as he turned to Harry with a smile that suggested he hadn’t felt this satisfied in at least a few hundred years. “I have sent them back where they came from, though I didn’t pinpoint their location precisely. They might have landed a few hundred miles off-centre."

“Wow,” Harry breathed, impressed but also feeling slightly worried about Dumbledore. Though, after Harry realized Dumbledore had known something really foul had lived in Harry’s scar for years, as he’d told Harry as much in his second year, and after feeling so much better without it, Harry had lost some of his fondness for the headmaster. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

Loki visibly puffed up with pride. “That, my child, and much more.”


	9. Number 9

Number 9

Loki took one look at Harry’s wand and said, “This is a little crutch for children. You will not need it to perform magic.”

Some part of Harry wanted to object, since he loved his wand. It genuinely felt like a part of him. But Harry had seen his mother perform magic without a wand. Loki performed all this magic, big and small, without any obvious tools, so Harry’s curiosity was piqued, especially because it would give him a real edge against Voldemort. Harry hadn’t forgotten how their wands had connected in the graveyard. If Harry could strike at Voldemort without a wand, and thus taking him completely by surprise, Harry might have a chance against him. 

Of course, Harry told none of that to his mother or his father. 

Loki was a strict but caring teacher. Loki understood magic on levels that went way over Harry’s head. To Loki, magic was like breathing, something he could do without even thinking about it. 

And therein lay the problem. To Harry, so far, the magic that Loki was trying to teach him did not come naturally. Harry had to concentrate with all he had and even then he couldn’t do a simple spell to produce a ball of light in his hand. 

For days Loki kept mentioning a tree in space and how everything was connected and all Harry had to do was walk the tree, which made no fucking sense at all. 

“Ugh.” Harry buried his face in his hands after his hundredth failed attempt.

“Haraldr,” Thor said as he crouched before Harry while Loki stood to the side with tightly crossed arms, frustration written clearly across his face. “Remember when you told me about this game you like to play, where you fly on a broomstick and catch a little ball?”

“Quidditch,” Harry supplied while glancing at his father through his fingers. 

“Performing magic is like that,” Thor said, and he waved his hand through the air as though to point some invisible thing out. “The magic is already there. All you have to do is catch it. When you play your game, do you have to make the ball from scratch, or do you only have to close your hand around it?”

Harry slowly lowered his hands and stared at his father in amazement. That actually made sense!

“The magic is right here.” Thor slowly straightened with a knowing smile on his face. “Go catch it.”

“That is the most absurd explanation of magic I have ever heard,” Loki said while smacking Thor on the arm. “Now I have to start over again to explain the world tree to our son.”

But Harry barely paid them any attention. He closed his eyes, imagined the magic around him (maybe shaped like a tree in space, who knew?), but there for him to catch, just like a snitch. Harry quietly whispered the spell and held out his hand and caught the magic that flowed around him. 

Opening his eyes, Harry saw a perfect ball of light floating above the palm of his hand. Harry looked up at his parents with a huge smile, which Thor answered with a wide grin and Loki with an absolutely gobsmacked expression.

“Just because I am not a mage like you, Loki, doesn’t mean I never paid attention during Mother’s lessons,” Thor said with a satisfied smirk while he bumped his elbow against Loki’s stomach. 

“Well, if there was any doubt about Thor having fathered the kid, I think we can put that behind us from now on,” Tony said from his position on the couch where he sat playing with his phone, pretending not to be interested in the magic lessons. 

And Harry learned a very important lesson that day. While Loki could run circles around Thor when it came to general intelligence, Thor did occasionally have something wise to say that went straight over Loki’s head.


	10. Number 10

Number 10

The next time they had a visitor from the wizarding world, instead of breaking in via a column of flames, they announced themselves at the reception desk in the lobby.

“A Mr Lupin and Professor McGonagall are here to speak to Mr Potter,” Jarvis said right after breakfast, while everyone was busy cleaning up. “They say they have urgent news concerning Mr Potter’s relatives.”

“Do they even know those people aren’t really Harry’s relatives?” Tony asked no one in particular. Harry silently agreed with him. He’d thought about that little fact a few times over the weeks he’d been staying there, how Petunia and Dudley weren’t even related to him by blood and never had been. 

Jarvis brought the elevator up to the penthouse where the Avengers placed themselves strategically around the room while Harry sat on a couch beside Bucky, while his parents hovered behind them. 

“Harry,” Lupin said with a warm smile as they stepped out of the elevator. “It’s good to see you again.” McGonagall didn’t say anything but did offer Harry a small nod and an even smaller smile. 

“I’m afraid we have bad news,” Lupin said as he accepted a seat on a chair near Harry that Bruce offered him. McGonagall stood at his side. “The Dursleys were all kissed by a dementor just two days ago.”

“What?” Harry stared at Lupin with wide eyes, his mind filled with disbelief. 

“What’s a dementor?” Bucky whispered beside Harry, though he wasn’t the only one to wonder that out loud. 

“Dementors are dark creatures that cause misery where ever they go,” McGonagall explained patiently. “They guard the wizarding prison Azkaban, and their worst weapon is the ability to suck out someone’s soul through a kiss. The victim will remain in a vegetative state until they pass away.”

“Show us these beasts so we can slay them!” Thor bellowed with thunder in his voice. “They have harmed Haraldr’s caretakers, so we shall have vengeance in their names!”

“The dementors in question were rogues,” Lupin said, looking slightly taken aback by Thor’s loud proclamations. “There are no other dementors roaming around that require termination.”

“A pity,” Thor said while he crossed his arms. 

Harry wasn’t sure what to think about any of this. He didn’t like the Dursleys. Really, truly didn’t like them, even though for years he’d thought they were the only family he had left. And while he wouldn’t wish them dead, he couldn’t muster up many feelings of sympathy for what happened to them. Harry remembered all too well all the times Petunia, Vernon and Dudley had hurt him. Dudley beating him up every other day, Vernon smacking him on the head and dragging him around by his arm until his shoulder screamed in pain, and Petunia hitting him in the head with a frying pan. And that didn’t even address the locks on his bedroom door or the cat-flap through which they gave him insufficient portions of food for a growing, teenage boy. 

Harry felt very little at all knowing the Dursleys were as good as dead. 

“Vernon’s sister Marge is organizing the funeral, since as muggles they all passed away just a few hours after being kissed,” Lupin explained while giving Harry a sympathetic look. “We’re here to take you back so you can attend.”

“I don’t want to go,” Harry murmured while staring at his knees. 

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall snapped while narrowing her eyes in disbelief. “They are your family, no matter what some people may have told you recently. The least you can do is –”

“Are you blind?” Clint asked, as he hopped off the edge of the kitchen table he’d been sitting on. “Do you truly not see what the hell is going on here?” Clint focussed his attention on Harry as he walked closer to him. “You don’t owe them anything, Harry. Not a goddamned thing. They never cared about you and you don’t have to pretend to care about them. They’re dead. Good riddance.”

Dead silence followed and Harry wanted the couch to swallow him whole as he kept staring at his knees, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes because he wasn’t sure what he’d find there. What he wanted to find there. Disbelief? Judgement? Sympathy? Harry wanted none of it. 

“I told you I’d teach you how to use a bow,” Clint said, gesturing at Harry to get up. “So, let’s go shoot some arrows.”

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful to have a valid excuse to leave a room. He jumped up and all but plastered himself against Clint’s side. “Nice meeting you,” Clint said with a slight sneer. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” And with his hand on Harry’s back he led him into the elevator. 

An hour later, as Harry was just allowed to try using a bow by himself, Lupin walked into the shooting range. 

“I won’t mention your muggle family again,” Lupin said, holding up a hand in surrender as Clint glared at him. “And Mr Stark showed us the evidence of your parentage. I swear, Harry, we had no idea James and Lily had adopted you.”

Shrugging, Harry scuffed his shoe against the wooden floor. “I’m honestly not sure if James and Lily even knew they adopted me. My grandfather may very well have made them believe they gave birth to me. Loki said that would be something he’d do to hide me.”

Lupin nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even matter in the end. James and Lily loved you, Harry, and you were their child, no matter how you came into their lives.”

Harry swallowed against a lump in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear someone say that about his adoptive parents. Ever since learning the truth about his parentage, Harry had wondered what James and Lily would make of him if they knew. “And what about Sirius?” Harry asked Lupin, since he hadn’t heard from his godfather since the end of his schoolyear. He’d hoped Sirius would at least send him a letter or something. “Is he still my godfather?”

“Yes, of course he is,” Lupin said quickly, and then sighed. “Sirius is still recovering in some ways, Harry, and he doesn’t believe you aren’t James and Lily’s biological son. This was a huge surprise for all of us. I will talk to him.”

“All right. Thanks.” Harry turned back to Clint while Lupin quietly left them to it and walked out of the room. 

They spent the rest of the day on the shooting range and Harry learned a lot about shooting with bow and arrow and he was ever so grateful he didn’t have to think about the Dursleys at all. By the time they made their way back to the communal area for food, Lupin and McGonagall were gone and everyone else pretended nothing had happened, which suited Harry just fine.


	11. Number 11

Number 11

They left in the middle of the night while it was still dark. Harry had no idea why, just that Tony told them to come to the roof while wearing comfy clothes for hot weather. Everyone filed into the Quinjet while yawning and rubbing their eyes. 

Just as the sun peeked over the horizon they arrived at their destination. 

“Happy birthday, kid!” Tony said, slapping Harry on the shoulder. “I made a few calls and they’re opening the park for us so we can celebrate your birthday. In return, they get to have some promo-shots with the Avengers hugging Micky or something, we’ll see.”

Harry found himself entering a theme park called The Magic Kingdom, which was one of the parks in Walt Disney World in Florida. And even Harry, though he’d literally grown up in a cupboard, had heard of Disney. 

“This is amazing,” Harry breathed as they walked inside the completely empty park. A few PR people and a photographer from Disney joined them to help them navigate the park in the short amount of time they had before the park would open to the public. The photographer had strict instructions only to take photos of the Avengers themselves, not any of their guests, which he did without any problems. 

Harry and everyone else got to go on rides like Space Mountain, which was his favourite, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and Splash Mountain, which were both a close second. They also enjoyed Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion, both which were pretty funny in their own way. 

By then it was almost time to open the park, and they all gathered to have breakfast in a private room in one of the restaurants, where they were visited by lots of the characters and the photographer went mad taking shots of Captain America kissing Minnie Mouse’s hand and Hawkeye fist-bumping Goofy. 

Harry, feeling famished at that point, ate his fill of the breakfast buffet, his plate overflowing with scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, waffles and pancakes. Bucky followed Harry around the buffet and put the exact things Harry choose on his own plate as well. Harry figured this was Bucky’s way of figuring out which of the things on offer were actually good to eat. 

“So, best birthday party ever?” Tony asked him as they left the park through the underground tunnels so as not to be mobbed by the public. 

“Only birthday party ever,” Harry blurted before he could stop himself, and then he quickly ducked his head. Tony patted his shoulder while Harry heard his mother muttering that if the Dursleys weren’t already dead he’d go and take care of that right away.


	12. Number 12

Number 12

August was coming to an end and Harry needed to get ready to return to Hogwarts. Problem was, Harry’s mother refused to let him go. 

“Haraldr, you have been making amazing progress with your magic,” Loki told him with a very reasonable look in his eyes and an utterly serene smile. “I can teach you all you need to know. You are not human. You have no need for their magic.”

Harry swallowed. A part of him, a small part, was tempted to just go along with Loki, just stay in the tower and enjoy spending time with his new family and friends. But Harry had other friends that he missed and that he wanted to see again. 

And then there was Voldemort, who Harry knew wouldn’t stop looking for him if Harry just disappeared from the wizarding world. And Harry understood that by him staying in the tower all year long, he’d be all but inviting Voldemort and his Death Eaters to come find him there. 

And what chance did most of the Avengers stand against a killing curse?

“I want to go back to Hogwarts,” Harry muttered for the umpteenth time. “I have friends I want to see and I enjoy learning human magic.”

Loki made a face as if he suddenly smelled something rotten right under his nose. 

“Brother,” Thor said from where he sat beside Harry at the breakfast table. “Remember when you wanted to go study magic on Vanaheim and our father refused to let you go because he thought it a waste of time?”

“That was different.” Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor, obviously not liking where Thor was going with his story one bit. 

“Mother intervened on your behalf, because she understood you needed it.” Thor paused for a moment to stare into his brother’s eyes. “Not to learn magic, you could do that at home. But to grow up and mature away from home.”

Loki sighed and shot Thor a very dirty look. “Bringing our mother into this. That was unnecessary.”

“You know she’d tell you to let Haraldr go and join his friends at this school he loves so much.”

Shrugging, Loki seemed to consider things carefully for a few moments. “Fine, Haraldr can go.” Loki turned to Harry and gave him a very intimidating look while crossing his arms. “Tony is working on getting a telephone to work around your magic. You will call us if you are in any danger. No discussion.”

“Yeah, I will,” Harry said, beaming at his mother, knowing he wouldn’t call them unless the situation was truly dire. 

Later, when Thor and Harry were alone in their private living room, Thor turned towards Harry. “You must forgive Loki for clinging as much as he does. Loki does not want to lose you again like he has lost his other children.”

Harry nodded his understanding, having heard bits and pieces about the lives of his siblings. It had certainly put his own strange life in perspective. Besides, deep down Harry rather liked having a parent who wanted to cling to him. It was more than he remembered ever having before.


	13. Number 13

Number 13

“You didn’t tell them about Voldemort?” Hermione all but hissed at him. 

Harry glanced around the train compartment they were in. The strange girl, Luna something, was distracted by her magazine, Neville was politely staring out the window, pretending not to be listening, and Ginny stared at him without a hint of shame at being caught eavesdropping. 

“Look,” Harry said in a desperate attempt to reason with a furious Hermione. “I did tell them about Voldemort, about how he killed my mum and – I mean, James and Lily.”

“They’re still your mum and dad, Harry,” Hermione said softly, knowingly. “Maybe call them adoptive parents?”

Harry considered that for a moment. “Yeah, that works. Anyway, I did mention Voldemort, is my point.”

“But apparently you conveniently forgot to mention he’s back!” Hermione’s eyes had narrowed again.

“Mate,” Ron said from where he sat beside Harry. “Why not ask them for help? Hermione said they help all sorts of people in the muggle world, right?”

“They stopped an alien invasion,” Hermione said with a pointed look at Harry. 

“But they’re still muggles, and I’ve been skirting around the Statute of Secrecy enough as is.” Harry gnashed his teeth together for a moment in sheer frustration. “And the ministry hates me enough already, I mean, have you seen the Prophet lately? I bet they’d like any excuse to mess with me, and if they found out I’ve involved a bunch of muggles in wizarding affairs they might sent people to come obliviate everyone and that would not end well, trust me.”

Harry did not want to know what the Winter Soldier would do to anyone who came to wipe his memory again. Not to mention what Steve would do alongside him. And then there was his mother and father, who weren’t even human, for fuck’s sake. Loki had more magic in his little finger than all of the British ministry combined, Harry was sure of it. Not to mention, Loki looked like he’d happily take any excuse to work out his frustrations in life on a whole bunch of humans sent to harm him and his family. 

Yeah, best to let sleeping Avengers lie and all that. 

Hermione chewed on her lip as she mulled things over. “I suppose you’re right,” she finally conceded “The ministry as it is right now wouldn’t look favourably on muggles involving themselves in wizarding affairs.” She leaned a little closer to Harry. “But if something happens, if Voldemort becomes a direct threat, you will tell them.”

“Sure,” Harry said easily. He wasn’t stupid. If he really needed it, he’d ask his parents and the others for help. 

“I wonder why the ministry’s being so difficult right now?” Ron asked no one in particular. 

“It’s the heliopaths,” Luna, the strange girl said as she lowered her magazine to stare at them with wide, slightly bulging eyes. “They’ve gotten to Fudge. My father wrote an article about it just last month.”

There were several long moments of baffled silence. 

“What are heliopaths?” Harry whispered in Ron’s general direction.

“Dunno,” Ron said with a shrug.

Harry sat back and stared at the ceiling. Whatever heliopaths were, they couldn’t be worse than his mother on a warpath. Fudge should consider himself lucky.


	14. Number 14

Number 14

Harry found the Winter Soldier sitting on his bed in the middle of the night when he woke up. In the Gryffindor fifth year boys’ dormitory. At Hogwarts. 

“What?” Harry managed to say while he frantically blinked his eyes to make the image before him go away. No such luck. 

“Volunteered to check up on you,” Bucky whispered while crouching on the foot of Harry’s bed, the curtains hiding him from view from the rest of the boys sleeping around them. He quietly handed Harry a box of chocolate-covered Oreos. On auto-pilot, Harry accepted them.

“What?” Harry said again, because…what was happening?

Bucky reached inside his leather jacket that was lined with knives and…was that a gun? Were those two guns, no, three? He pulled out an amulet that Harry could barely make out in the darkness. “Your mother made these so we can see all the wizarding stuff.”

His mother. Of course. Harry should have known. For all that his mother apparently wanted to kill everyone in the world at all times, when it came to Harry he was a regular mother hen and had barely let him return to Hogwarts at all. And now he’d sent spies to check up on him. 

Harry supposed he should be grateful it was Bucky who volunteered. If Natasha had shown up, Harry would have never seen her coming. She’d have returned to report all of Harry’s carefully kept secrets to his mother before Harry would even know she was there. 

“Tell him I’m fine,” Harry said, subconsciously sliding his wounded hand under the covers. 

Apparently, those weird Nazis that had brainwashed Bucky for decades had also given him excellent night vision because before he knew what was happening, Harry felt metal fingers gently close around his wrist. 

“Who did this?” Bucky demanded, carefully looking Harry’s hand over. The words Umbridge made him carve into his hand over and over were barely visible but the wound still stung. 

“Nobody,” Harry said quickly. Too quickly. But truth was, Harry didn’t want The Avengers bearing down on Hogwarts with all their might. He was genuinely concerned there wouldn’t be a castle left standing after his father was done exacting vengeance in the name of his son. Never mind what the Hulk would do if he were ever to get involved. 

Bucky frowned at him for a few seconds before apparently making up his mind. “I’m telling your mother.” And with that, Bucky hopped off the bed and disappeared into the darkness. Harry barely heard the door open and close.

“No, wait!” Harry called after him, trying to untangle himself from his blankets. He threw himself out of bed, tripped over his trunk and fell face-first on the floor. 

“Bwah?” Ron said from the bed beside him.

Harry didn’t even bother raising his head from the floor. They were fucked. They were all incredibly fucked. 

Loki was coming to Hogwarts.


	15. Number 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Loki. That is all.

Number 15

Harry was writing lines into the back of his own hand, again, when he noticed an owl land on the windowsill behind Umbridge, who sat at her desk grading essays on all the things they weren’t learning in her classes. 

It was a solid, black owl with glowing green eyes, which stared at Harry with a gaze full of all sorts of accusations. 

Harry froze in his seat. 

“Is there a problem, Mr Potter?” Umbridge asked sweetly, head tilted as she smiled at him. Umbridge couldn’t bear the idea of Harry not causing himself irreversible harm for even one second while in her office. 

“Er…” was all Harry managed to say before Loki materialized right behind Umbridge. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Loki asked in a tone of voice that meant he was hanging onto his sanity by only the slightest of threads. “Haraldr, why are you cutting yourself with such foul magic?”

Umbridge let out a tiny little squeak, all but fell out of her chair and whirled around to meet Harry’s mother. Umbridge was so small, she had to throw her head almost completely back to look up at Loki. “How dare you interrupt this boy’s detention? I do not care who you are, I will report you to the ministry for this criminal trespassing.”

Loki’s answering grin was terrible to behold. “I am this boy’s mother and I am here to find out why my son is being made to harm himself.”

“Because he’s a liar!” Umbridge all but shrieked, puffing up like an angry bullfrog. “This boy has done nothing but spew lies, going against the ministry’s carefully considered interpretation of events.”

“A liar, is he?” Loki laughed, a sharp enough sound to cut through stone. “That is no surprise, given who his mother is.” Loki turned towards Harry, who still sat frozen behind the small desk in front of Umbridge’s opulent one. “Haraldr, show me your hand.”

The temperature in the room dropped to such a degree that for a moment Harry was sure dementors were invading Hogwarts and heading straight for them. He didn’t dare disobey his mother, not when his face looked cut from glass, his skin gaining the slightest blue-ish tint. Harry stuck out his hand, showing the bleeding words on the back of it. 

“I must not tell lies,” Loki read out loud and turned back to Umbridge, who had her wand pointed at Loki’s belly button. One snap of Loki’s fingers and the wand turned to ashes that floated gently to the floor. 

“How dare you!” Umbridge screeched while she stomped her foot against her fluffy, pink rug. 

“If my son must not tell lies, then the same shall be true for you, Madam.” And while smirking like a supervillain people once thought he was, Loki tapped a finger against Umbridge’s forehead. He offered Harry a brief, narrow-eyed look that promised they would talk about this sometime in the future, and a second later Loki was gone as though he’d never been there in the first place. 

“I will see you expelled for this!” Umbridge stabbed her short little finger in Harry’s direction and marched out of her office. 

“What?” Harry scrambled to grab his things and all but ran after Umbridge, who rushed towards the Great Hall. It was Saturday afternoon, almost dinner time, so the hall was rapidly filling with students and teachers. 

“I want Mr Potter expelled, right now!” Umbridge yelled as she entered the hall and charged straight towards the head table. Dumbledore, who had just sat down, rose again and blinked at Umbridge. “The boy didn’t even have the decency to be home when I sent dementors after him this summer to see him kissed, but I am done with his insistence to tell the truth and I want him expelled immediately!”

All around them students fell quiet and stared at Umbridge as she stopped in front of the head table, glaring up at the headmaster with all her might. 

“Well? Expel him, Dumbledore!” Umbridge pointed her stubby little finger at the headmaster. 

Dumbledore seemed to regain some of his composure after a brief moment of obvious shock. “On what grounds should I expel Mr Potter, Dolores?”

“On the grounds that he interrupts me when I torture him in my office,” Umbridge said, earning whispers and shouts from students all around them. At the head table, McGonagall turned white as a sheet, Sprout clapped a hand over her mouth and Flitwick hurried out of the hall through a side door. “All the mudbloods I’ve been maiming with my blood quill have kept quiet and accepted that they deserve to suffer for their dirty blood, but Mr Potter can’t even make it an hour of enduring excruciating pain without interrupting me. His behaviour is out of control and if I could get away with it I would torture him to death with a cruciatus curse.”

Dead silence was followed by harsh whispers and raised voices and students shouting over each other, hurling accusations of all sorts at Umbridge, from her terrible classes to her torturing students during detention. 

Flitwick came running back into the hall, followed by three red-robed Aurors. “There she is. She confessed in front of everyone she sent the dementors that killed Mr Potter’s muggle family this summer.”

Umbridge whirled around and cackled at Flitwick. “Of course I sent them. Cornelius insisted I find a way to shut the boy up and leaving him a soulless husk would have done that job nicely. Now I’m stuck torturing the boy for hours and hours every week by making him carve words in his own skin with dark magic, yet he insists on showing me nothing but insolence while he keeps telling everyone who will listen the truth. The boy must be stopped, permanently if I can manage to get away with murder.”

One tall, muscular Auror raised his wand in an almost lazy fashion and fired off a silent stunner at Umbridge, who dropped to the floor like a full bag of potatoes. “We’ve heard enough.” He waved his wand around and Umbridge’s unresponsive body floated towards them. 

“Ah, yes, Auror Shacklebolt,” Dumbledore said after a rather awkward pause while the students around them were cheering and hollering. “I assume you will take it from here, and that I’ll need to find yet another Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Chaos erupted as students at all tables jumped up on top of their benches and threw quills and parchment and scarves into the air to celebrate Umbridge’s demise. Harry slunk towards the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione were waving him over. 

“What the hell just happened?” Ron demanded in a shout, as the noise around them had yet to die down. 

Harry glanced around the out of control students and snickered. “My mother just happened.”


	16. Number 16

Number 16

Right before the Christmas holidays, Arthur Weasley was attacked by a venomous snake in the ministry of magic. Arthur managed to send of his Patronus to his wife before succumbing to the venom and slipping into unconsciousness. Molly alerted anyone she could and an emergency rescue mission was mounted and Arthur taken to St Mungo’s at once. His condition was critical and Arthur himself remained in a coma while the healers fought to save his life. 

Early in the morning Ron and Harry were woken up by McGonagall wearing a tartan dressing gown. 

“Your father is in the hospital, Mr Weasley,” McGonagall said, her eyes soft with sympathy. A groggy-looking Ron was awake at once, almost tripping as he jumped out of bed. “The headmaster wants to see you both.”

“Why me?” Harry asked, rubbing a hand across his face while he reached for his glasses. 

“The headmaster wants you both moved to a safe location at once, since Arthur Weasley was attacked in the Ministry while on Order business.”

“But I’m going home tomorrow for the holidays,” Harry said, thoroughly confused. He was looking forward to seeing his parents and everyone else. He hadn’t seen them since Bucky’s and his mother’s brief visits and he missed them. Though Harry knew Bucky still popped by every now and then but just didn’t wake Harry up, since Harry found offerings of boxes of cookies or bags of M&Ms on his pillow in the mornings when he woke up every two weeks or so. 

“Mr Potter,” McGonagall said with a tired sigh. “Please just go see the headmaster. We’re all doing this for your and your friends’ safety.”

“Yeah, all right.” And Harry slipped on his thick dressing gown and fluffy slippers, courtesy of Tony and Jarvis, who had supplied Harry with a whole new wardrobe during the summer, for which Harry was secretly very grateful. Ginny and the twins were waiting for them in the common room and together they trooped towards Dumbledore’s office through the dark hallways. 

What followed was half an hour of chaos as Dumbledore called out orders, portraits appeared and disappeared in their frames with news and warnings and the Weasley children were pale and quiet with worry for their dad. 

Harry very much felt like an outsider, intruding on the family and their concern for their patriarch. 

Before Harry even knew what was happening, Dumbledore made Harry read a slip of paper with an address and urged Harry to grab hold of an old kettle together with the Weasleys and he was pulled via portkey to a gloomy basement kitchen where Sirius stood waiting for them. Sirius looked unkempt and slightly dazed, as if part of his mind was permanently occupied elsewhere.

Harry sat at the table while the Weasley kids almost mounted a mutiny to see their dad at the hospital until their mum sent news Arthur was still alive and being treated. 

“Sirius,” Harry said later, after they’d had their fill of butterbeer. “I’m happy to see you, but I’m supposed to go home to my parents for Christmas tomorrow. I’m not even sure why I’m here in the first place.”

“You’re here because Thicknesse is looking for an excuse to go after anyone associated with Dumbledore,” Sirius said. Pius Thicknesse was Umbridge’s replacement. Another flunky of Fudge, but as an actual Auror he did know a thing or two about defence and he let them use practical spells, so his classes weren’t half-bad if you discounted all the ministry propaganda about Voldemort’s not-return Thicknesse liked to spew from time to time. 

Sirius’ eyes turning flinty as he stared at Harry. “I know you’re confused, Harry, but you have to understand those people are not your parents.”

Harry swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. He liked Sirius, had really liked the connection to his parents (or what Harry thought were his biological parents at the time) his godfather offered him. And so it hurt to have Sirius act so dismissively of the fact Harry now had living, breathing parents who cared for him in their own enthusiastic and occasionally slightly homicidal ways.

“James and Lily died for you,” Sirius continued in a harsh whisper, eyes full of a feverish intensity. “They’re your parents, and they made me your godfather and I’m saying you’re staying here.”

Turning on his heels, Harry marched to the stairs that led up to the hallway. He tried the front door, but found it locked. Then he tried every window he could find, but found those locked as well.

He was being held a prisoner by his own godfather. What the fuck?

The next morning, after no one had any sleep, the Weasley children were allowed to go to St Mungo’s. Harry was told to stay put, which he did since he didn’t have much choice. Harry snuck away from Sirius as often as he could and tried to use any spells he knew against the front door, to open it, trace be damned, but nothing he did worked. 

It wasn’t until late in the afternoon, when McGonagall dropped off all their trunks, that Harry had the tool to break out. The phone Tony had built and Loki had charmed to work amongst magic and that Harry kept hidden in his trunk for emergencies. He hadn’t told anyone about it, wanting to keep some things for himself. 

“I’d like to leave now to join my parents for Christmas,” Harry stated very firmly and clearly to Sirius, Moody and McGonagall. “If you do not let me go you’ll be holding me here against my will and I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

McGonagall at least looked somewhat dubious but ultimately shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr Potter, but the headmaster decided it was better if you stayed here for the holidays. Voldemort is on the move after his attack on Arthur Weasley.” Whatever respect he may have had for his Head of House, Harry lost it that day. 

“You’ve got no business with a bunch of muggles telling you stories,” Moody added, sounding just a tad bitter. Loki had magically kicked them out of the tower once, sending them to Merlin knew where in Europe. 

“They’re not your parents,” Sirius kept saying, while filling more than half of his teacup with whiskey when he thought no one was looking. “You’re staying here.”

Yeah, no, Harry had heard enough. With a heavy, slightly broken heart, Harry retreated to the room he and Ron been assigned and activated the phone and after some thought pressed on the little icon that held his father’s picture. No need to directly involve his mother just yet. This way Harry hoped Thor would share the news with Loki and keep him from doing anything too rash. 

“Haraldr!” Thor answered after a few moments. “It is good to hear from you, my son! We are all looking forward to your return.”

“Dad,” Harry whispered and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “I need your help.”

Thor’s tone of voice shifted at once from exuberant to sober. “Tell me what you need.”

“Dumbledore and Sirius and everyone else are keeping me locked up in…” Harry couldn’t say the location where he was and then he realized the house was under a Fidelius charm so of course he couldn’t give the exact address. “London. I can’t give you the exact location because of a protective spell,” he finally managed. “And they’re saying I can’t come home for Christmas and have to stay here and all the doors and windows are locked and I can’t leave and I really, really want to come home.”

Thor’s voice was steady and soothing as he spoke, calming Harry’s racing heart and mind at once. “Stay where you are, Haraldr. We are coming for you. Loki explained that both he and Tony put trackers inside the phone they gave you so we will find you.” And then he hung up and Harry leaned back on the bed he was sitting on, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake to unleash the Avengers on the Order of the Phoenix. 

Not that they didn’t have it coming. Kidnapping minors, purposefully keeping them away from their parents was crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed, in Harry’s opinion. 

“I’ve alerted my parents I’ve been kidnapped,” Harry told Sirius, Moody and a few other Order members as he joined them in the basement kitchen after placing his trunk near the front door, ready to depart. Harry had no doubt his parents and the Avengers would find a way to get to him, Fidelius charm or not. “Let me go now and you won’t be harmed. I cannot guarantee your safety once my parents show up.”

“They’re not your parents!” Sirius snapped, eyes slightly red with sorrow or alcohol, Harry wasn’t sure. He mostly just felt pity when looking at Sirius since seeing his godfather again. It was clear that learning Harry wasn’t really James’ son hadn’t done Sirius and his already fragile mind any favours. 

“What are a bunch of muggles going to do?” Moody asked with a crooked grin, showing off the many scars on his face even more. “We’re under a Fidelius charm. No one’s ever broken one of those.”

“We’re doing this for your safety,” some woman Harry didn’t know said in a slightly snooty tone. 

“Believing some muggles and their fancy tales,” an unknown man said with a brief sniff while raising his nose in the air. 

“My parents aren’t muggles,” Harry pointed out steadily, leaning against the doorpost. “They’re not even human. They’re gods.”

And as if on cue, a burst of thunder so loud filled the sky outside that it shook the entire house on its foundation, cups rattling in the cupboard, books falling off shelves. 

“What the hell was that?” Moody asked, wand in his hand but pointed at nothing. 

“That was my dad,” Harry said with an amused smile. “Just let me go already, before he brings the house down.”

“We’re not just handing you over to a bunch of strangers,” the unknown man said, and why the hell did some guy Harry didn’t even know think he had anything to say about Harry’s life when Harry’s real family was outside waiting for him. Harry turned his back on the lot of them and rushed up the stairs. The living room at the front of the house offered a perfect view of the street outside and Harry tried an eavesdropping spell on the window and was delighted it worked. 

Harry’s father was standing in the middle of the street, hammer raised and lightening crackling around him. Harry’s mother stood beside Iron Man, both staring at the spot number twelve, Grimmauld Place was located at. It remained invisible to their eyes for the time being. 

“My reading says Harry’s right here,” Tony said, helmet retracting as he looked around in confusion. 

“My spells say the same thing,” Loki said, tilting his head as he stared right at the invisible house. “A clever little spell, but not clever enough. I cannot see the house Haraldr is in, but I can see the magic around it.”

“Then I can break that spell,” Thor announced and threw a huge bolt of lightning directly at the house, which shook and groaned. Windows everywhere cracked while blue and white whisps of electricity crawled up and down the outside walls.

“Hmm.” Loki stared at the invisible house. “Do that again, brother. But do put a little more effort into it.”

Thor snorted and shook his head in faint amusement and called for more lightning, followed by roaring thunder as he unleashed it upon the old townhouse, which creaked and started crumbling, windows cracking, glass falling everywhere, and roof tiles flying off the house and landing in the street breaking on impact and sending fragments flying everywhere. Most even made it beyond the border of the Fidelius charm and hit Thor, Loki and Tony, 

“Yay!” Tony said, doing a little dance in place. “It’s working. I can add some missiles, but that might end up hurting Harry.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed with a smirk. “That would probably be a little bit too much of a good thing.”

“Pity,” Tony sighed while Thor launched another barrage of lightning at the house. Bricks were falling apart and flying everywhere, while windowpanes cracked and splintered. 

“What is going on here?” a new voice sounded behind Harry, who was watching the whole thing through the now glassless window with a huge grin. Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway, her children crowding behind her, trying to see what was going on. Further inside the house the attending Order members were running around, calling for Dumbledore and seriously considering going outside and attacking Harry’s parents. 

Fools.

“Sorry for the ruckus, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said with an apologetic shrug. “But Dumbledore is keeping me here against my will and I just want to go home for Christmas so my parents have come to get me.”

“What?” Ron asked in great confusion from behind his mother. Mrs Weasley on the other hand narrowed her red-rimmed eyes and swung around, her children parting at once to let her through. 

“Follow me, Harry dear.” Mrs Weasley marched towards the front door and smacked her wand against it before pulling it open, just as Thor threw a final burst of lightning at the structure, breaking the Fidelius charm at last.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Molly?” Moody demanded as he came clunking up to them. 

Harry stood with one hand around a trunk handle and waved at his parents from the opened doorway. “Be right there!”

“Take your time, son!” Thor called back with wide grin and answering wave. 

“What the hell am I doing?” Molly demanded, hands on her hips as she lay into Moody and the rest of the kidnapping Order members. “What are you doing, keeping a child away from his parents? Is that the kind of organization you are running here, because I will have no part of that.”

“Listen, Molly,” Moody started, but Molly cut him off with a vicious swipe of her hand. 

“No, I don’t even want to hear it. Harry goes home to spend time with his family as he should.” And at that moment, Mrs Weasley’s voice cracked and she lowered her face into her hand and Harry stepped up to her on instinct and gave her a hug, which she eagerly returned. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” Harry whispered against her shoulder.

“Thank you, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley whispered back. “Now go, your parents will be happy to see you.”

And with a wave at Ron, Ginny and the twins, Harry grabbed his trunk and hurried out the door and down the steps and right into his mother’s arms. Harry hugged Loki with all his might and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Thor join the hug from behind him. 

“We have missed you, Haraldr,” Thor said as he pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. 

“Missed you, too,” Harry said, because he had missed them and it was such a novel feeling, to have a family to miss, that Harry clung to it and to them for a very long moment. 

Finally, they pulled apart and Harry gaped at the destroyed façade of twelve Grimmauld Place, glass and bricks and rubble spread all around them. 

“Come on, kid, let’s go home,” Tony said as he stood looking at them with a lopsided smile. 

And they did.


	17. Number 17

Number 17

Clint and Natasha were sitting in the cockpit of the Quinjet that flew them home. The rest of the Avengers had stayed in New York to hold down the fort. Natasha winked at Harry and Clint offered him a high-five. 

While they travelled across the ocean at enormous speeds, everyone urged Harry to talk about all the things that had happened at school, so Harry told them about Quidditch, about Ron becoming keeper and Malfoy trying to sabotage their games through a lively showtune.

“Sing it!” Tony demanded with a wicked grin. 

Harry felt his cheeks heat. “No, I’m not going to sing it,” he muttered, ducking his head and staring at his knees. 

“Haraldr,” his father said seriously from his seat beside Harry. “You cannot regale us with tales of a song used to fight your allies without treating us to a performance of this song.”

“Come on, kid, we wanna hear it!” Clint called from the cockpit. 

So very slowly, very quietly, Harry sang ‘Weasley is our King’, while Tony held up his phone which Harry was pretty sure meant he was being filmed. 

“Bravo!” Thor yelled, clapping Harry on the back so hard he almost fell off his seat. Both Clint and Natasha were applauding from the cockpit and Loki gave Harry a proud smile. “Now we shall all sing it!” And with that, Thor started bellowing “Weasley cannot save a thing, he cannot block a single ring, that’s why Slytherins all sing, Weasley is our King.” 

At once Clint and Tony joined him, followed soon after by Natasha and Loki. Harry looked around the Quinjet and wondered what Malfoy would make of the fact that two gods and a bunch of muggles were taking possession of his song. After being nudged in his side by his father, Harry joined in on the singing. 

That’s how they landed on Avengers tower, where everyone was standing on the landing deck waiting for them. They got some strange looks as they exited the Quinjet while loudly singing, but that didn’t last very long as everyone surged forward to clap Harry on the shoulder and back, welcoming him home. Ms Pepper Potts even gave him a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

Bucky offered Harry a plate with five cupcakes on it, covered in dogshit. 

Seriously, the cupcakes looked like five chihuahuas had deposited perfect little round, brown turds on each of them. 

“I made these for you,” Bucky said with a small, slightly awkward smile. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d ever even seen Bucky smile before. It really made him look…something. “They’re vanilla cakes with a mocha buttercream topping. Piped it on myself. Agatha has been telling me to create stuff.”

“Who’s Agatha?” Harry asked, suddenly worried Bucky had found a girlfriend and wondering why that thought upset him so much. 

“My therapist,” Bucky said, gaze not meeting Harry’s. “She’s convinced that if I do enough occupational therapy and stuff I won’t want to kill people anymore.”

“And is it working?” Harry asked while accepting the plate. 

Bucky shrugged. “So far, so good.”

“Ah.” Thor stepped up beside Harry. “I see the Soldier of Winter has made you an offering of his excellent baked goods. He has been hoarding these like a dragon hoards gold ever since he started baking. I have only had the pleasure of tasting one of his creations before.” And Thor gave Harry an expectant look. 

Harry, still dubious if the little brown turds were edible at all, offered the plate to his father. “Want one?”

“Yes, thank you, son.” Thor snatched up a cupcake, took an enormous bite, and groaned in obvious pleasure. 

“Yeah, don’t mind if I do,” Tony said, reaching for a cupcake, but Bucky gave him such a vicious snarl that Tony quickly snatched his hand back. 

“Just Dad,” Harry said, holding the plate closer to his chest. “He did bring down the house, after all.”

“Just be careful, kid,” Sam said, standing beside Steve. “That buttercream has about eighty thousand calories. I swear, I ate two of those once, gained twenty pounds and my wings didn’t fit anymore.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “On second thought, Barnes probably did that on purpose.”

Bucky snickered while casting a brief glance at Sam.

“I’m onto you!” Sam pointed his finger first at his eyes and then at Bucky. 

Meanwhile, Harry grabbed a cupcake and took a tentative bite. Holy crap. Like, literally, since the buttercream really did look like little turds, but it was so good! Harry moaned and for some reason, Bucky blushed, but Harry ignored him and ate the rest of the cupcake with his eyes closed. 

“Is anyone else feeling a little dirty, watching a fifteen-year-old making those kinds of noises?” Tony wondered out loud.

“Tony, really,” Pepper scolded while grabbing Tony by the elbow and leading him inside. “Harry, don’t spoil your appetite with Bucky’s baking. We’re having pizza later for a welcome home dinner.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry replied, tempted beyond belief just to finish the whole plate of cupcakes but controlling himself. “I’ll save them for after dinner. They’re one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

Bucky’s cheeks were glowing and he nodded, smiled very briefly, and hurried inside the tower. 

To deal with the jetlag and time difference, Harry unpacked his trunk, let Hedwig out of her cage so she could use the elaborate parrot perch with different levels Jarvis had gotten her during the summer, and took a nap until his mother came to wake him up for dinner. 

The whole dining table was covered in pizza boxes and everyone was walking around with plates and napkins and glasses of soda and bottles of beer. Harry had discovered the delicacy that was New York pizza during the summer and had quickly proclaimed it his favourite food. 

“So, meet any cute girls while at school?” Clint asked him with an expectant smile as he sat down opposite Harry. 

Behind them, Bucky walked into a door, his metal elbow leaving a significant dent. 

Harry swallowed his bite of pepperoni pizza. “Well, there is one girl, Cho Chang, she’s real pretty, and she asked me to Hogsmeade, but she kept crying the whole time.”

“There is so much I want to say right now, but I’m worried about traumatizing the kid,” Tony said to Pepper, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Why was she crying?” Pepper asked with a kind smile. 

“Er…her boyfriend died last year and I guess she’s still sad about that,” Harry said with a shrug. His whole date with Cho had been awkward and he hadn’t enjoyed it very much. “She wanted to talk about him a lot while we were in Hogsmeade.”

“Ah, you’re the rebound guy,” Tony said wisely, while Clint nodded in agreement. Even Natasha looked like she thought Tony was making a good point. “Don’t bother with that one, kid. She’s looking for a distraction, not a boyfriend.”

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Steve said while narrowing his eyes at Tony. “She’s hurting because she lost someone she loved.”

Harry felt decidedly weird having all the Avengers discuss his one stupid date with Cho. 

“It’s not harsh,” Bucky suddenly said from where he stood in the middle of the room, pizza box in hand. Steve looked at him in surprise. “Harry deserves to be someone’s first choice, not their second.” When everyone turned to stare at him, for a moment Bucky looked like he wanted to draw a few weapons to deal with whatever conflict he was seeing, but in the end he turned on his heels, walked into the same door again, and finally managed to leave the room. 

“What’s with him?” Harry asked no one in particular. 

“Oh, there is so much I want to say right now,” Tony said while grinning like a loon. 

“Don’t you dare,” Pepper told him with a vicious glare.


	18. Number 18

Number 18

Harry had slept in, still getting used to the time difference, taken a long shower and fried himself a few eggs and some bacon for breakfast, when Jarvis told him he was expected in the communal living room. Harry ate the last few bites of food, dumped his plate in the sink, downed his tea and hurried towards the living room, curious what was going on.

All of the Avengers were gathered, plus lots of extra people. It reminded Harry of that time they’d wanted to know about his scar. 

“Er…” Harry looked around in confusion and shuffled towards his mother who waved him over. Apparently, Loki had saved him a seat on the couch, so Harry sank down beside him and clasped his hands in his lap. 

“It is paramount that we know of any threats that exist so that we can figure out how to best deal with them,” Mr Eyepatch said, who Harry now knew was called Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, the organization who worked with the Avengers. As far as Harry understood it, something bad had happened with SHIELD that involved Bucky, Steve, Sam and Natasha, but after a brief time of violence the bad guys had been found out and SHIELD had reformed and continued to work to keep the world safe. Or something. “This includes threats originating in the wizarding world. Is there something you’d like to tell us, Harry?”

Harry looked up, unsure what Fury was getting at, though he was starting to have a very strong suspicion what this was all about. “I’m good,” Harry said with a shrug, realizing that every eye in the room was on him. 

“Natasha,” Fury said, stepping back so Natasha could come forward. She stood in front of them with her arms crossed and a narrowed gaze. 

“For the last few months, I have been infiltrating the wizarding world,” Natasha said, and at once Harry wondered if she’d made it into Hogwarts, like Bucky had. “The Dark Lord Harry told us killed his parents has returned. He was never dead, just without a body for over a decade. And Harry was aware of this fact, since he was an unwilling participant in Voldemort’s resurrection at the end of the previous school year.”

Harry swallowed, breathing speeding up as he remembered a flash of green light, Cedric’s dead body falling onto the grass, Voldemort rising from the cauldron and the excruciating pain of the cruciatus curse. 

“Haraldr,” Loki whispered, stroking a hand up and down Harry’s back. “Breathe, child.”

“Not a good experience, huh?” Tony said from the other side of Loki. “Hey, we’ve all been there, kid. Take your time.”

For some bizarre reason a lump formed in Harry’s throat and he had to swallow a fair few times to get rid of it. “What do you want from me? You already know he’s back,” Harry finally managed to whisper, glancing up at Natasha from under his fringe as he kept his head bowed. 

Natasha’s expression was carefully neutral. “We need every detail you can give us, Harry. Describe every encounter you’ve had with him, because I have heard rumours that you’ve seen him before last year.”

“Fine,” Harry said, heart still pounding in his chest. “In my first year, Voldemort was possessing Quirrell, our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Dumbledore was hiding the philosopher’s stone at Hogwarts and Voldemort was trying to steal it, so we, that is Ron, Hermione and me, stopped him. I’m not actually quite sure how,” Harry added with a frown. “I kind of turned Quirrell to ash and then Voldemort fled as a wraith and I woke up in the hospital wing.”

Silence followed that stretched to almost half a minute. 

“How old were you?” Sam finally asked. 

“It was my first year, so I was eleven,” Harry said, glancing around the room, wondering why everyone was looking so shocked. 

“Why did you have to stop him?” Bruce asked, adjusting the glasses on his nose. “Where was Dumbledore? Or other teachers? Or even older students?”

Harry shrugged. “Dumbledore was at the ministry, I think, and McGonagall basically told us to mind our own business, that the stone was protected.” Harry frowned, realizing something he’d never thought of before. The stone _had_ been protected, because Quirrell and Voldemort hadn’t been able to decipher how to get the stone from the mirror. “We didn’t really think to talk to anyone else before we went to save the stone.”

“Let’s move on,” Natasha said decisively when it looked like more than one person wanted to speak up. 

“In my second year, I met Voldemort again, sort of. His teenaged essence or something was trapped in a diary that Lucius Malfoy slipped to Ginny Weasley, who wrote in it the whole year to the point Voldemort possessed her and unleashed the basilisk, which petrified some students, including Hermione. Ginny got taken into the Chamber of Secrets, and since I’m a parselmouth, that’s someone who can talk to snakes, I could open the chamber and Ron and I followed her, with Lockhart, but he was useless. Ron got separated by a rockfall, and Tom Riddle, that’s Voldemort’s real name, was sucking the life out of Ginny and summoned the basilisk, but then Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix showed up and the sorting hat gave me a sword that I stabbed the basilisk with through the roof of its mouth, but its fang stabbed through my arm,” at this point Harry raised the sleeve of his hoodie and showed off the round scars on both sides of his forearm, “but Fawkes cried on the wound and his tears have strong healing powers so I didn’t die, and then I used the basilisk fang to stab the diary and that destroyed Tom Riddle’s shade.”

Total. Silence. People stared at Harry in utter disbelief. Even Natasha’s lips were slightly parted, which for her was the equivalent of her entire mouth hanging open, Harry was sure. 

Tony eventually cleared his throat. “So, all in favour of yanking Harry out of Hogwarts like yesterday raise your hand.”

More than a few hands went up, with Bucky being the first to do so while he looked at Harry as though he was genuinely scared Harry would drop dead then and there. 

“What?” Harry looked around the room in confusion. Yes, having to fight a basilisk was bad, but Harry had managed it and he’d saved Ginny, so as far as he was concerned it wasn’t something to be so shocked about, especially not years after the fact. 

“You were twelve,” Steve said while shaking his head in what might be some form of denial. 

“Yes, Haraldr,” Thor said, his face scrunched up in obvious worry. “It is commendable that you slayed a basilisk and saved your friend, but it deeply worries me none of the adults around you that ought to look out for you were there to fight by your side.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Harry insisted, which earned him a snort from Tony and Clint both.

“Look, the kid isn’t going to understand why we’re upset without some serious therapy,” Clint said.

“I’ll schedule it at once,” Pepper said, picking up her phone and tapping it with quick fingers.

“So for now maybe just keep talking, Harry, and ignore all the adults and their weird reactions.” Clint gestured at Harry to go on while he leaned back in his seat. 

“Okay.” Harry inwardly shook himself and cleared his throat. “In my third year I didn’t encounter Voldemort directly, but I did help free Sirius, who was innocent and he’d escaped Azkaban prison to catch Peter Pettigrew, who was hiding as Ron’s pet rat because he was the real traitor who’d sold me and my parents out to Voldemort. Pettigrew escaped, though, and Sirius and I almost got kissed by dementors, but I managed a Patronus charm at the last minute and drove them off. Pettigrew went to find Voldemort’s wraith and helped him back to Britain over the summer.”

“Dementors,” Loki said slowly, carefully. “You faced more than one of these soul-sucking beasts?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, a hundred or so. The ministry had stationed them around Hogwarts. But my Patronus worked so it was fine.” 

Loki glanced at Tony. “Haraldr is not going back there, not ever again.” Tony smirked knowingly in response. 

“You can’t do that,” Harry instantly objected, sitting up and glaring at his mother. 

“Let’s move on,” Natasha said loudly, narrowing her gaze at Harry, Loki and Tony. “Harry, what happened next?”

Harry inhaled a shaky breath, trying hard to keep his temper under control. Him flying off the handle wouldn’t help anyone or anything right then. “Well, to make a very long story short, one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters, Barty Crouch Jr posed as Alastor Moody, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and he slipped my name into the Goblet of Fire, so I had to participate in the TriWizard Tournament, whether I liked it or not. I had to fight a dragon to steal a golden egg, spend an hour underwater in the lake to save Ron and finally make it through a maze filled with magical creatures and stuff, but Cedric got to the cup at the same time so we both touched it, and it was a portkey that took us to the cemetery where Pettigrew killed Cedric right away and tied me up to a headstone and used my blood to resurrect Voldemort, who cursed me a bit but then I escaped with Cedric’s body by touching the cup again.” All of that Harry had said in pretty much a single breath, and he felt slightly lightheaded by the time he’d gotten all of that out. From across the coffee table Clint handed Harry a can of cola, which Harry gratefully accepted, quickly opening it and taking a huge gulp. 

Natasha, in the meantime, waited patiently until Harry was done hydrating himself before she spoke again. “I have yet to find any information on how Voldemort managed to turn himself immortal. Harry, do you have any ideas?”

Harry blinked at Natasha, drawing a blank. “No, not really. Voldemort himself bragged to his followers that he’d gone further than anyone in some bad magic, so I’m guessing it’s that.”

“I have an idea,” Loki said, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. “What we pulled out of Haraldr’s scar was, in essence, a piece of Voldemort’s soul. At first, I thought perhaps his soul had been damaged when his own magic was returned to him when he tried to murder Haraldr. But splitting one’s soul and hiding a part away from it in a container would give one a very rudimentary form of immortality. The body could still be destroyed, of course, but the soul would not pass on, tied to the mortal plane as long as the soul container was intact.”

“The diary,” Tony guessed at once, proving once again his brain worked a lot faster than most people’s. “The shade of Tom Riddle was a piece of Voldemort’s soul.”

“Huh?” Harry leaned forward to look at Tony on the other side of his mother. 

“Now what we have to figure out is how many of these containers he made,” Tony concluded, while everyone else was staring at him, trying very hard to mentally keep up with his extraordinary mind. “We destroy the containers, we destroy Voldemort.”

“Haraldr was a container used to keep his mortal enemy alive?” Thor demanded, his eyes briefly flashing with electricity.

“Wait, wait,” Harry said, suddenly lightheaded again. He’d had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him? “Oh no,” Harry said, lips suddenly trembling while his throat became very tight. “Dumbledore knew.”

“What?” Both Loki and Clint said, while Bucky made a very undignified sound that sounded somewhat like a lion who’s tail someone just stepped on. 

“After the whole Chamber of Secrets thing, Dumbledore said that the night Voldemort tried to kill me he left something of himself behind in me or something and that’s why I was a parselmouth.” Harry looked at his mother with pleading eyes, wanting to be wrong about where his mind was taking this information so badly. 

Loki picked up one of Harry’s trembling hands and squeezed it with both of his. “Dumbledore knew you housed Voldemort’s soul and made no effort to see it removed from you.”

“And we know the containers need to be destroyed to end Voldemort,” Tony helpfully added while giving Harry a sympathetic look. “So my guess, Dumbledore was counting on you to die one way or the other at some point in the future.”

Harry swallowed and swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away. 

“How do we find out if there are more containers?” Natasha asked, but Harry barely heard her because his ears were ringing. 

“I can perform a spell in Britain, looking specifically for incomplete souls. I only need to find one container, which I can then easily use to find the rest,” Loki said, just as Harry’s vision was blacking out. 

Harry wasn’t sure what had happened next, only that he suddenly found himself sitting on the couch in their private quarters, squashed between Thor and Bucky, with Steve and Clint occupying the other couch. Toy Story was playing on the TV and a warm blanket covered Harry, Bucky and his father. 

Thor smiled at him. “Loki has gone to perform the spell to find the containers,” his father told him, and a huge weight fell off Harry’s shoulders, though he wasn’t sure why. “He expects to have destroyed any he finds within a day or two, and then we can come up with a plan to finish Voldemort once and for all.”

“He’ll be mortal,” Clint said matter-of-factly, gaze never leaving the TV screen. “Just put me in range and I’ll shoot an arrow through his eye.”

“And I’ll put a bullet through his other eye,” Bucky said with a dark look, though he quickly changed his expression to carefully neutral when Harry glanced at him. Leaning forward, Bucky picked up a plate from the coffee table and held it out to Harry. “Cupcake?”


	19. Number 19

Number 19

The next day, Harry felt better, definitely like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His mother was actively searching for a way to destroy Voldemort and while a part of Harry was itching to involve himself in that search, another part, perhaps a larger part, was happy to let his mother, who knew more about magic than Harry could ever even imagine, take charge of that operation. 

Harry was still suffering from a slight jetlag, though, so in the morning he stayed in their quarters, fooling around a little with the magic Loki had been teaching him and chatting with Jarvis. After a simple lunch of a turkey sandwich, Harry took a nap in his room, since his body was suddenly exhausted as though it was the middle of the night. Harry just loved time differences, really. 

It was already near the end of the afternoon when Harry woke up. Rubbing a hand over his face and blinking rapidly, Harry strolled into their living room, only to realize at the last second he wasn’t alone. 

Tony stood leaning against the opposite wall. Loki stood in front of Tony, no, smashed against Tony, with his mouth on Tony’s while his hand was lost somewhere in the front of Tony’s opened trousers. There were loud smacking noises as they snogged as if their lives depended on it, Loki’s other hand wound in Tony’s hair and Tony holding onto Loki’s leather jacket with tight fingers. 

Harry stared, because he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. He’d never seen this before. One time, he’d walked in on Fred and Angelina snogging while leaning against the wall in the Quidditch dressing room after a match, when Harry had forgotten his gloves and gone back for them. But that had been different, because that had been a teenage boy and girl. 

These were two men. One of which was Harry’s mother. Who had been, at one point, in a relationship with his brother when they’d made Harry. And who was now snogging Tony Stark in their living room while doing things in Tony Stark’s trousers. 

Harry stared for a moment longer. 

“Sir,” Jarvis eventually said, drawing Tony’s attention to the fact that they were not alone in the living room. 

“Oh, hey, kid,” Tony said, while Loki quickly pulled away from him to look over his shoulder at Harry in surprise. “Sorry about that.”

“Er…” Harry blinked a few times, his cheeks slowly warming up until they felt like they were on fire, and then he fled their rooms entirely, because he had no clue what to say or how to act around two adults he’d just caught doing adult things. 

Barefooted, and wearing rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt, Harry wandered around the tower, hoping to find someone who had answers for him, because Harry was feeling very confused. Part of him hoped to find Thor, but another part of him wasn’t sure if his father even knew his mother did adult things with Tony, and would he be angry if he found out? Harry didn’t want his father and mother to fight because of something he’d said. 

Harry checked the range to see if Clint was there, but it was empty. He checked the communal living room, but no one was there, either. Finally he made his way to the training rooms, where he found Natasha kicking the shit out of a punching bag. 

Harry shuffled inside, not sure if she was the right person to talk to or not, but he felt that he had to talk to someone because his head was about to explode because of what he’d seen, or so it felt. 

Natasha took one look at him and stopped her workout, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat of her face. “You all right, kid?”

“I don’t know,” Harry told her honestly, and then he released a big sigh. 

“I don’t bite,” Natasha said, with a tiny curve of her lips that made her look terribly amused somehow. “Try me.”

“I just saw my mother and Tony snogging and I don’t know if this is going to make my father angry and I don’t want them to fight because I told Thor about this but I also don’t want to keep this from him,” Harry rambled while giving Natasha a hopeless look. 

“Deep breath,” Natasha said, just as Harry was feeling a little lightheaded again. “Thor already knows Loki and Tony are dating. Everyone knows, except apparently you.”

“Really?” Harry blinked, genuinely surprised. “They never told me. Since when?”

“Since right before they found you last summer.”

“Huh.” Harry felt as if suddenly the whole world realigned itself around him. “Wait, is that why Tony is always hanging around us?”

Natasha briefly ducked her head when she couldn’t hold back a real smile. When she looked up she appeared once again composed. “We really have to work on your awareness of the people around you because right now you’re taking your obliviousness to entirely new heights, never before seen by mankind.”

Feeling slightly insulted, Harry scoffed. “I’m not that bad. I’ve got lots on my mind.”

“Then it is even more important that you remain aware of the world around you instead of being distracted all the time.” Natasha curved an eyebrow and tilted her head. “I have a challenge for you, if you dare to accept it.”

At once, Harry’s curiosity was piqued. “Sure, what’s the challenge?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed while she offered Harry a bit of a smug smirk. “Before I tell you the challenge, you must agree to the terms. If you don’t complete the challenge within the allotted time, you will owe me a favour.”

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up while a shiver ran across his back. Owing the Black Widow a favour was an intimidating thought. Still, he was a Gryffindor and wasn’t prone to backing off just because the going got tough. “All right. But if I do complete it, you owe me a favour.”

Natasha’s entire expression was caught somewhere between pride and amusement. “Fair enough. Here is your challenge. Before the end of your Christmas holidays, I want you to discover a secret from each of the Avengers.”

“A secret?” Harry asked dubiously. 

“Something that is not common knowledge and they won’t readily share with others.”

“From the Avengers?” Something dawned on Harry and he swallowed. “That includes you.”

Natasha gave him a regal nod. “That includes me. Do you accept?”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said with the kind of forced carelessness that desperately tried to hide how nervous he suddenly felt. Still, it was an interesting challenge and Harry did like a good challenge. 

“Excellent. I look forward to collecting on your favour at some point in the future.” Natasha flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned her back to him while Harry sputtered about showing her he could win this easily. 

Before Harry made it to the door of the gym, Natasha looked at him while she positioned herself in front of the punching bag again. “Harry, I understand it can be scary, to suddenly find yourself surrounded by a family when you’ve never really had one before.”

Harry stood in place with his hand on the door and glanced down, biting his lip. 

“But know that your mother and father would do anything for you. Everyone here would, so don’t worry about people getting angry because of something you say or do.” Natasha shrugged and then raised her hands up front of her. “Everyone here wants you to feel comfortable enough to speak your mind, understand?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered and gave Natasha a grateful smile. “I’m getting there.”

Natasha went back to kicking the crap out of the punching bag, and Harry left to go back to his room and find some shoes to wear.

Later, when they all sat down to a feast of takeaway Thai food in the communal living room, Tony briefly stopped behind Harry and patted his shoulders with both hands. “We didn’t spook you too much, did we, kid?”

“Nah,” Harry said, briefly smiling up at Tony. “I’d just woke up from a nap, I was barely awake anyway.”

“Good, because your mother was beating himself up about accidentally traumatizing your poor, innocent little mind,” Tony said, just as Loki joined them. 

“What did you just say about me?” Loki asked with a frown, moving to sit down beside Harry. 

“Nothing, dear. Good news, though, the kid’s fine!” Tony slapped Loki’s ass and quickly moved away, sporting a playful grin, and how the hell had Harry never realized these two were in a relationship because now that he was looking, really looking, it all seemed so obvious to him. 

Natasha, who was sitting across the table from him and was following the drama carefully, looked at Harry and winked.


	20. Number 20

Number 20

Agatha was a middle-aged woman with long, black hair, large glasses and features that reminded Harry simultaneously of Cho Chang and Parvati Patil. 

The first thing Agatha did was ask Harry about his time with the Dursleys, but Harry clamped up at once, having no desire whatsoever to discuss his horrible, dead relatives with a complete stranger, so instead Agatha asked about his first year at Hogwarts. Agatha was a muggle, but Loki and Tony had apparently informed her magic was real and how Harry was a wizard, so Harry figured it was all right to talk to her about his first year attending a school of witchcraft and wizardry. 

“Why did you feel you had to protect the stone, Harry?” Agatha asked, head tilted a little and a small, kind smile on her face, after Harry was done telling her about the time he, Ron and Hermione had gone after Quirrell to keep the Philosopher’s Stone safe. 

“Er…” Harry shrugged, feeling rather awkward about answering a question like that. “Because no one else was, I guess?”

“But other people were protecting the stone,” Agatha pointed out. “Professor McGonagall assured you of this right before you went to protect it anyway. And she wasn’t lying, was she?”

“No, I guess not,” Harry said, remembering Quirrell hadn’t been able to get the stone from the mirror until Harry had accidentally pulled it out for him. “But someone had to stop Voldemort, and I had stopped him before.”

“But you didn’t go down the trapdoor to stop Voldemort. You went to stop Professor Snape.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he couldn’t find any words to form a coherent reply to that. 

“Your roommates didn’t feel the need to protect the stone, did they?” Agatha raised a single eyebrow as if in challenge. “Why not?”

“They didn’t know about it,” Harry pointed out, almost wanting to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that answer. “And Neville actually tried to stop us, even though he’s really bad at magic and Hermione petrified him.”

“Why did Neville try to stop you, do you think?”

Harry blinked, trying to remember what Neville had said exactly. It had been a few years and it wasn’t something Harry ever spent a lot of time thinking about. “He didn’t want us to lose more points, since we’d already lost a lot of house points when we smuggled Hagrid’s dragon out of school.”

Agatha’s eyes widened for a moment as her mouth dropped open, but she quickly squeezed her eyes shut and licked her lips, obviously composing herself. “We’ll get to that later. Back to why you believed you needed to protect the stone. Do you believe Neville should have protected the stone?”

“No, of course not,” Harry said with a snort. He liked Neville, but anyone would have to admit Neville wasn’t very talented at magic, or at anything, really, aside from Herbology. Neville protecting anything was rather laughable. 

Agatha smiled as if she knew something Harry didn’t. “So you wouldn’t expect Neville to face off against an adult criminal, but you do expect it of yourself when you were both just eleven years old?”

Frowning, Harry stared down at his knees. “Neville didn’t know any spells, he wouldn’t have made it very far.”

“And at eleven, did you know many spells, Harry?” Agatha asked reasonably. “If Quirrell had started casting spells at you, would you have been able to defend yourself properly at that age?”

“Er..” Harry was suddenly feeling rather baffled when he realized that in fact he hadn’t know many spells yet at that age. He hadn’t even learned the disarming charm until his second year. How on earth had he thought he could go up against a full-grown wizard? How on earth had they even made it that far through the challenges…oh. 

Agatha waited patiently while Harry leaned back in his seat, mouth open in shock as something suddenly occurred to him. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but now that he was older and knew more magic, it suddenly made perfect sense. 

“It was a set-up,” Harry whispered, more to himself than to Agatha. “It had to be, because I know now that there are dozens of ways to protect something with magic that should keep out a couple of first-years easily enough.”

Agatha nodded. “I agree that it sounds like someone wanted you to make it through those challenges.”

“Dumbledore,” Harry said while hanging his head. It always came back to Dumbledore, didn’t it? He’d known about the piece of Voldemort’s soul in Harry’s scar, and now it became clear to Harry that Dumbledore had somehow set him up the moment he’d set foot in Hogwarts, what with all the breadcrumbs Harry had followed all the way to his confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort. 

“Our time is up for today,” Agatha said, closing the notebook in her lap quietly. “But I want you to really think about why you felt the need to protect the stone, Harry, and we’ll talk about it some more during our next appointment, the day after tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, a little awkwardly, as he left the conference room where Agatha received her Avenger clients.

Bucky was waiting for him in Harry’s living room with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream. They sat side by side on the couch, sipping their drinks. For a while, neither spoke, just enjoyed their sweet treats, until finally Bucky turned towards Harry. “You okay?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess. It was weird, mostly.”

“Weird how?” 

“Weird, because she kept hammering on the same subject,” Harry said, glancing at Bucky, wondering if Bucky had similar experiences with their shared therapist. 

Turns out, Bucky did. “Yeah, she gets like that, and usually about stuff you don’t want to talk about.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry agreed, remembering how much Agatha had wanted Harry to talk about his life with the Dursleys. 

“But usually it’s for a good reason,” Bucky continued, much to Harry’s surprise. Bucky glanced at Harry and gave him an uncertain smile. “At least that’s how it is for me. Whenever I tell her the things she wants to hear, I feel better afterwards.”

“Better how?” Harry asked, wondering why telling a stranger about the Dursleys would help him.

Bucky stared straight ahead for a few moments before draining his mug and leaning back in the couch with a sigh. “Because before telling her, I’m the only one who knows and the only one who has to deal with it. But afterwards, the load is shared, if that makes sense.”

That did make sense, surprisingly. “Huh. Okay.” Harry gave Bucky a grateful smile and plucked the empty mug out of his metal hand to make them some more hot chocolate. 

During his next appointment with Agatha, when she asked about his life at the Dursleys, Harry inhaled a deep, shaky breath and told her about the cupboard under the stairs. Agatha, to her credit, didn’t react in shock or pity or anything like that, but just let Harry talk while she listened with an attentive look on her face. 

“How do you feel about having spent so many years on a storage closet, Harry?” Agatha asked, after Harry was done talking and sipped his can of cola. Agatha had a huge, steaming mug of coffee in front of her which she mostly ignored in favour of writing notes in her notebook. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Harry said with a shrug, glancing to the side and sipping his soda again. 

“And what would you say if someone else told you they’d been made to sleep in a storage closet while there was a spare bedroom available in the house.”

“Like who?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Someone like your friends Ron or Hermione, or Neville,” Agatha said with an even voice. 

Harry considered that. The thought of Ron or Hermione or Neville sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs was a strange one, because for some reason it didn’t sit well with Harry. 

“I don’t know,” he said eventually, because for reasons that weren’t clear to him, he didn’t want to admit that it would be wrong. 

“I think you do know,” Agatha said quietly, but with a kind smile. “Try a little harder now, Harry.”

Harry swallowed. “I guess it wouldn’t be right if that happened to them.”

“Hm.” Agatha paused, but Harry already had a suspicion what she was going to say next. “So if it isn’t right for your friends, then why wasn’t it bad for you?”

“It doesn’t matter though,” Harry said, because somehow thinking of an answer to those questions felt like poking something sharp in his chest and Harry wanted to avoid that feeling with all his might. “They’re dead and I’m never going back there.”

“You’re right in that they’re gone and you’re living here now,” Agatha said, slowly turning a page in her notebook and scribbling something down again. “But this clearly bothers you to the point you’d rather not talk about it. Why is that?”

“Because it was wrong, all right?” Harry snapped, spilling cola all over his hand as he all but slammed the can onto the little side-table next to his chair. “I knew it was wrong, but no one cared. I tried telling people, but the Dursleys would lie about it and call me a criminal and pretend I had to go to a school for juvenile delinquents, and no one ever helped me.”

“Thank you for telling me, Harry,” Agatha said, while Harry desperately tried to catch his breath, his heart racing in his chest. “I understand this is hard to talk about, but you’re very brave for sharing it with me. Let’s leave it here and we’ll continue in two days.”

Bucky was waiting for him again, mugs of hot chocolate at the ready. Harry was utterly grateful Bucky didn’t expect him to talk, just sat with him on the couch for as long as Harry wanted. 

“Ugh,” Harry said eventually after they’d finished their drinks. “I’m not sure I feel better.”

“It might take a while,” Bucky offered. “You’ve got to get used to it before that raw feeling goes away.”

Harry glanced at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a firm nod. 

Harry accepted that and figured he could try it a few more times, sharing personal stuff with Agatha, to see if it did help him feel better in the long run. “Want to watch another Pixar movie?” After Tony had made fun of them a time or two whenever he made Pixar references and both Harry and Bucky gave him confused looks, they’d recently decided, with the help of Jarvis, to just watch all of them in order. 

“Sure,” Bucky said, getting comfortable on the couch. “Where were we, Jarvis?”

The TV turned on. “Starting Finding Nemo,” Jarvis said, and Harry sighed and focussed on the screen, while Bucky pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and spread it across their laps. If anything, Harry’s therapy sessions always ended with Bucky spending time with him and that alone pretty much made them worth it as far as Harry was concerned.


	21. Number 21

Number 21

Harry was in a panic. 

Christmas was in two days and he didn’t have any gifts for anyone. 

“Mr Potter, let me assure you no one expects you to buy them gifts,” Jarvis told him, not for the first time. “Though perhaps making a Christmas card for the others would be appreciated.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands across his face, glasses almost falling off. He quickly pushed them back on his nose and sighed again. Making Christmas card? No. Harry had no talents for arts and crafts, at least not when it had been expected of him back in primary school and he hadn’t done anything artsy since. The only thing he was good at, besides certain aspects of magic, was cleaning and cooking for the Dursleys. 

He could offer coupons to everyone, good for Harry vacuuming their rooms or something. Or he could do as Bucky and bake some treats. 

Wait.

Harry looked up, eyes widening. He could do as Bucky and bake some treats. Harry had baked biscuits at the Dursleys numerous times. “Jarvis,” Harry said urgently, looking up at the nearest camera like he always did when talking to the faceless AI. “Would it be appreciated, do you think, if I baked people biscuits?”

“I believe so,” Jarvis said, obviously warming to the subject. “It is indeed tradition to share homemade baked goods amongst your loved ones, and Christmas cookies appear to be a favourite thing to make. Shall I look up a few recipes and order the necessary ingredients? And perhaps add some festive cookie jars to gift them in? And some wrapping paper?”

“Yes, yes, and yes!” Harry jumped up from the couch and picked up the nearest tablet where Jarvis conveniently displayed multiple recipes for Harry to choose from. 

There were many recipes, some very simple, and some that needed an advanced degree in frosting by the looks of it. Harry selected three recipes. Gingerbread cookies, because Jarvis assured him they were traditional and the frosting didn’t seem too complicated. Peppermint Pattie-stuffed chocolate cookies, because they frankly looked delicious and weren’t even that difficult to make. And a simple peanut butter chocolate chip cookie. 

Jarvis got all the ingredients delivered within the hour, and by that time Harry had gathered all the tools he needed. A sturdy stand mixer he’d borrowed from the main kitchen, several cookie sheets, mixing bowls and spatulas. 

Following the recipes carefully, Harry got started at once and before long had a big batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies in the oven while he started on the gingerbread cookies. Jarvis turned on some classic Christmas music to add to the mood and Harry hummed along as he took out the first batch of cookies, placed them on several cooling racks and got the next batch baking. Then he tackled the Peppermint Pattie-stuffed chocolate cookies, which were a little more involved but still easy enough to make. 

By that time a few big boxes of various Christmasy cookie jars were delivered, together with a pile of cards, a bag of bows and several rolls of wrapping paper, and Harry started organizing how many jars he needed for who. 

“Something smells delicious,” Thor said as he entered their living room, returning from his daily workout. 

“No!” Harry looked up in alarm from a new batch of cookies he was mixing. “You can’t have any and you can’t even be here. It’s for Christmas and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Thor looked around at the living room covered in cookie jars and the kitchen covered in cooling racks piled with cookies and gave Harry a serious look. “I swear, Haraldr, I shall not speak a word of this.” And with that Thor disappeared into his bedroom to take a shower. 

Less than ten minutes later Jarvis alerted him to a visitor standing outside their door. “Mr Barnes requests entrance.”

“Nope. Tell him I’m busy,” Harry said, and he was busy trying to frost gingerbread cookies with a piping bag.

“Mr Barnes requests you give him the recipe of whatever it is you’re baking,” Jarvis said with obvious amusement in his voice. 

“Tell him after Christmas.” This whole piping thing was much harder than it looked, Harry quickly found out. No wonder Bucky’s cupcakes always looked like they were covered in turds. 

“Mr Barnes wants you to know those terms are acceptable and he shall see you at dinner.”

Harry spent the whole afternoon baking and frosting and filling cookie jars. He took a quick break for a joint dinner with the others, but afterwards he went right back at it. The next day was spent wrapping all the cookie jars, after Jarvis showed him a few very helpful YouTube videos on how one should wrap presents and have them look at least somewhat presentable. And later that night, when the communal living room was empty, Harry snuck all his presents under the big tree decorated with Avengers ornaments and Christmas lights in red and gold. By the looks of it, he was the last one to do so because there were dozens and dozens of presents already there. 

And then Christmas arrived and Tony got Jarvis to wake everyone up before the crack of dawn, ordering them into the living room where a simple breakfast buffet waited for them with coffee, tea and hot chocolate and easy to eat sandwiches, and scones filled with fried eggs and ham, croissants and sausage rolls. 

Everyone shuffled inside still in their pyjamas, Harry included since Jarvis had made sure he had appropriate Christmas pyjamas just a few days earlier, and they filled plates and mugs before sitting in a loose circle around the tree, yawning and rubbing their eyes. 

Opening presents with so many people was slightly chaotic, especially since Tony had put himself in charge and had a habit of randomly handing our gifts three or four at a time, so everyone was unwrapping gifts and thanking each other at the same time. 

Still, Harry enjoyed the whole thing immensely and didn’t think he’d ever had this good of a Christmas before, least of all because he spent it with his actual parents for the first time ever. Thor and Loki sat on either side of him and more than once Harry glanced at them in slight disbelief. Barely six months ago he hadn’t known that he had living parents who genuinely loved him and now look at him. Those thoughts filled Harry with warmth even more so than the delicious hot chocolate did. 

Harry received several magical books from his mother and a small sword from his father, with the promise to start teaching him how to use it as soon as possible. Harry actually looked forward to that because sword fighting seemed like a really cool thing to learn. 

From the others he got an assortment of things, from new clothes courtesy of Pepper to gift cards from Steve and some books from Bruce. Tony, of course, gave him the latest Stark phone which had been prepped to work around magic, with a charger that worked on solar power. 

Bucky had baked everyone cupcakes, gifting them in special Christmas cupcake containers, which Harry hadn’t even known existed. Still, he looked forward to eating them because Bucky really was a talented baker. 

“I’m very surprised by this gift,” Thor proclaimed loudly when he opened Harry’s gift to him. “I had no idea you would gift me with homemade baked goods, Haraldr.” And then he winked at Harry, and Harry simultaneously laughed while shaking his head. Subtle, his father was not. 

Harry’s cookie jars went over well and people thanked him for his effort and Clint and Sam and Tony all immediately tried a few of the cookies, not caring that the gingerbread men looked like they had vomit running down their bodies, thanks to Harry’s minimal talents in frosting. 

“These are the best,” Clint announced, holding up a peppermint pattie-stuffed chocolate cookie. “Seriously, from now on you can bake these for me for any special occasion that requires gifts and I’ll be completely happy.”

Bucky, who’d been keeping Harry’s gift to him on his lap, guarding it with his metal arm, tentatively opened up his cookie jar and fished out a peppermint pattie-stuffed chocolate cookie. He took a careful bite, chewed for a moment and then his eyes widened and he stared at Harry in amazement before taking a bigger bite. 

For some reason this made Harry’s cheeks heat up and he ducked his head, suddenly feeling all sorts of shy, which was really weird, but then again, he’d never experienced a Christmas morning like this so who even knew how he was supposed to feel. 

When everyone was just about done with opening presents, and all seemed to appreciate Harry’s efforts and his cookies, Harry looked up at the nearest camera and offered it a quick thumbs-up. 

In reply, Jarvis flashed a smiley face on the screen of Harry’s new phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr: [maeglinyedi](https://maeglinyedi.tumblr.com)


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